#that's me right now I NEED MORE INFORMATION

[simpjaes]

SWEET LITTLE MONEY MAKER. ― S.JY

When your best friend quite literally gifts you an entire man, you realize that you’re in no place to pretend that you don’t love it.  or the one where you’re very much an “i don’t need a man” type of person, and Jake shows you that you do, in fact, need a man….him, you specifically need him. Only because he needs you. 

MDNI! reblogs help writers, so please show your support through a reblog! PAIRING ― stripper!sim jaeyun x rich!afab reader

WORDCOUNT― 13.6k

CONTENT―  he’s a switch and desperately wants to be ur sugar baby, you’re a boring rich bitch who has no interest at first, masturbation, reader is kind of power-hungry, jake chokes her NOTE ― if you’ve read this before, specifically for jeno, hi. that was written by me back in 2022 except now it’s way better and not an absolute trash-fire. enjoy! not proof read kind of.

nsfw tags under cut::

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

NSFW TAGS― jake is a stripper so obv dancing and stripping, HE’S VERY SWITCH BUT MOSTLY SUBBY HERE, hand job, masturbation, choking without permission, finger fucking, making out, protected sex omg GASP, slight nipple play, riding, lil bit of stomach bulge, sensitive cock continues to get fucked lmfao

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It was a gift, or rather, he was the gift.

A downpayment of six hundred dollars told you enough about the man. It’s obvious he offers his services to lonely, sad, rich women who have no one else to spend their money on. A parasite, a leech, is what he is. Yet, still, your best friend has been taunting you with the idea for months in an attempt to have you give the guy a try.

She had apparently heard of the infamous Jake through various means. All rich women, all lonely and unsatisfied women. Which, to you only seems like a fucking insult to be taunted with the very idea of hiring this man. What is she implying? That you’re lonely and unsatisfied? Please.

Some best friend. Then again, she has since experienced Jake herself, and now her taunting feels more like…promises. 

“He’s so clean, toned, and oh god–” She had paused with a flush across her cheeks as she thought back to the heated night. “The way he moves, shit, he teases so much. I could have died right then and there if he were to–” 

The expression of disinterest on your face did not halt her doting, nor did the blatant grimace you eventually shot at her. Genuinely, you cannot take her seriously. Already you know too much about her, which is nice and all, but you could do without the details of her little stripper friend and how “wet” he left her. 

“I even heard that sometimes he even gives special treatments with his services…” She had rolled her eyes after she said that, almost looking offended. “Not that I'd know or anything, he took my cash and left when our session was up.” 

You recall knowing exactly what that “treatment” probably entailed, and the reason your best friend didn’t get it was likely due to the fact that she’s, well, not that rich. You’d assume such an expensive man wouldn’t give special treatments to women who wouldn’t end up being repeat customers anyway. Or, maybe, he just wasn’t trying to drain her dry. 

And even with all of the information being dangled in front of your face, practically force fed to you, the image should be more delicious than the century-old wine you have every night at dinner– for the entire duration of her doting compliments of Jake, you are simply not fucking interested. There’s other things to do in life, more to worry about than getting your body excited for someone who will never finish the job. 

Last week was when your bestie told you all about her single night with him. In fact, her entire visit was just her speaking of him, of how great he is, of how alluring he is. Arguably, you see that she’s a bit obsessed. Does it make you curious? Maybe a little bit, but not enough to actually give him a go yourself. And so, after that visit, you watched her leave with a menacing, evil little glint in her eye. You ignored it, as per usual considering she’s always up to something, unaware that the visit she lends to you today is not a complimentary marketing campaign of a male stripper, no, it’s a fucking ambush. 

When she appeared at your doorstep, she said nothing. She didn’t even look you in the eye, actually. Weird.  She did, however, have an envelope in her hand and you were almost offended at how she threw it at you and trotted away without a single greeting or goodbye. No afternoon lunch over champagne, no gossip, no advertising. Just an envelope. 

Suspicious.

Upon opening said envelope, you find that your bitch of a best friend dropped that six hundred dollar down payment, likely in an attempt to force you out of being the stick in the mud that you always are. There’s a note. Your name in bold letters, a date, a time, and a signature of none other than “Jake Sim” with a fucking website on the back. 

Shortly after huffing and rolling your eyes, about two seconds from tossing her six hundred dollars in the trash, you feel your phone ping to show your best friend texting you. 

Best Friend: I paid for it, you just have to tip him. a lot. tip him a lot. You: why the fuck would you buy a stripper for me?

Best Friend: you need it, trust me. 

So, now here you are waiting for that knock on your door and wondering why you even tried to look nice for some dude that’s about to swing his meat in your face. Appearance, reputation, whatever. Fucking unbelievable, you think, that there’s a stripper out there that only does private parties and your own best friend thinks you need it? You could have any dick you want, why the fuck should you have to pay just to look? 

He’s going to be expecting more than just you here, alone in your house. Surely, he won’t be expecting to waltz into someone’s home all oiled up only to find one very disinterested woman. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

To your dismay, Jake has apparently already been warned of you. Your best friend probably told him that you’re a nightmare, too difficult to fluster or gain an interest from. The first words out of his mouth when you opened your door was “She said you’d give me that look.”

Still, even so, your best friend wasn’t lying to him. You played the part of yourself all too well as you watched him saunter into your home as if he owned the place. You’re impressed actually, with the way he doesn’t seem to feel out of place in such a lavish room. He looks…comfortable here as he scopes out his stage for the night, like he belongs. 

“Big place, looked smaller on the outside.” He says casually, filling the silence in the room since you make no attempt yourself to greet him. 

You watch as he tosses his bag beside your living room couch and eyes the spacious area just in front of the large fireplace. His eyes flick to the windows, to the walls, counting the outlets and looking for shelves with space. 

“The smaller the better, sometimes it feels too big in here for just me.” You finally speak, admitting a small weakness of yours almost immediately. You are lonely, despite never wanting to admit it. And you watch as he shrugs, now crouching to grab wires from his bag. 

“Oh yeah?” He glances at you. “Must get lonely. What a good friend to purchase me to help you with that.”

You bite the inside of your cheek at that, noting his calm and cool tone as he talks his business. The little smirk at the corner of his lips is charming, but it’s all for show. He’s just a pretty man, that’s all he’s got going for him and you guess you can respect the hustle. 

“This was not my doing.” You cross your arms, pretending to be unimpressed. 

“Yeah, yeah–” He waves you off as he begins to set up, making space for small lights to set the mood, looking to see if you have a sound system he can use. “I already know that you’re new to this.” He’s still calm, still collected.

“Lucky for you, first-timers are my favorite to entertain.” He smirks again, now looking directly at you as he, now, fluffs some of your couch pillows. 

Your curiosity spikes again only for a moment. You really did think that the initial meeting would be different, less casual. You half expected him to waltz in cock swinging. Wasn’t he, like, supposed to pretend to be a cop or something? You know, show up and press play on a magical stereo that didn’t exist beforehand and start vibrating on you? 

Instead, he’s just setting up…fully clothed in a ratty sweater with jeans that hug his thighs. He doesn’t appear at all to be a man that gets paid to take his clothes off. It makes you wonder. Makes you want to ask questions. Then again, you still have no interest in learning about him considering you already know exactly what he will be doing soon enough. 

“You’re good with the mood lighting, yeah? Or do you prefer the morgue lighting?” His eyes shoot up to the bright white lights on your ceiling as he goes for his laptop now, presumably to connect it to your very obvious sound system.

You only take slight offense to his comment on your living room lighting, considering you have a control panel that can make them way less blinding, but– he’s right. And now you’re a little insecure that you prefer such a drab color in your home. You make your way to the wall, clicking the buttons on the panel just to prove you have warm lighting too, and that you can adjust the brightness. 

“Ah, perfect.” Jake hums from across the room, eyes focused on his laptop screen before glancing to you and your extravagant light switch. “A little lower.” He guides you, knowing exactly which lighting accentuates his toned body the best when paired with his own little LED colored lights. 

You turn the knob slightly, wondering just how good he must be at dancing in houses like this one. 

“Little more.” He smiles

You dim the lighting more, looking at him and his relaxed posture. 

“Right there.” He finishes in a more gentle tone, eyes focusing back on his laptop as he prepares not only the playlist but the mood lighting from his end too. Red. Lots of red.

And you just watch, his voice ringing in your ears as you try to pretend that your best friend wasn’t right. Even with just this casual set up…he’s…goddamn, he’s alluring. In that ratty old sweater, with his messy hair and pretty smile. 

Stunning. 

This motherfucker is stunning. 

“Go and sit–” Jake says now, nodding to your couch as he places his laptop down, presumably done with the set up. “Just tell me where I can get myself ready and I’ll be back out shortly.” 

You point towards the guest bathroom as you take your seat on the couch, unsure as to why your hands feel so clammy. And by the time he rounds the corner and you can hear the bathroom door shut, you attempt to make yourself comfortable. 

And goddammit, no matter how many times you’ve napped here on this plush and soft surface, you can’t find the comfort here right now. The curiosity of why you’re okay with this burns in your gut despite knowing exactly why. Despite the fact that your best friend can always see straight through you and know exactly what you are. 

At the end of the day though, why the curiosity exists isn’t what matters. It’s the curiosity itself. You want to know how much money Jake makes doing this, if he likes doing it, how he got started, what he does to advertise himself in a way to only find women like you, and many other things. Countless things. He’s hot as hell, actually, and how he’s come to do this kind of work is either one of two things. One being that he’s using what the Gods gave him to the fullest. Two, being that he had no other choice. 

If he’s going to be paid to give you attention, the least you can hope is that he does it because he enjoys it, not because he has to do it. And if it does end up being because he has to do it, then perhaps his tip would be even larger than what you’d give for the ladder. 

You’re uncomfortable. 

The fact looming that you genuinely could go out and find a man at any given moment, yet here you are with a man forced upon you because you simply won’t do it. The implications of this man being here, why he’s here, how he ended up in this situation. 

You’ve never been one to care, so why start now? 

“You overthink too much.” Your best friend had said to you once, twice, hundreds of times during your friendship.  Maybe she’s right, maybe you should just enjoy the show without feeling entitled to a slutty man’s life story.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake remains in the bathroom for a good thirty or so minutes, each of them passing like a nightmare in your head. Back and forth your brain goes, from not wanting to be in this situation to fighting yourself for being such a fucking bore. A very, very attractive man is primping himself for you to look at, he’s going to come out and do his best to turn you on, the least you can do is let yourself enjoy something for once. Enjoy him. Gawk and fawn over him. After all, at least you know there’s no promise to be had after he leaves. 

No missed calls, no blocked numbers. This is business. 

Fucking thankfully, the moment he comes out of your bathroom your mind has adjusted itself into the correct state of mind for this. A torturous adventure of thoughts, but you made it nonetheless. You actually can’t even look away from him now that he’s revealed himself, even when you tried. He isn’t dressed in anything that looks tacky or cheap. Hell, he doesn’t even look sexual. He just looks…

Expensive. 

Jake genuinely looks like this is a place where he belongs. He smells like he belongs here, walks and murmurs like it too. 

You feel yourself physically react to him in his blazer and dress pants. Business is what got you to where you are today, but never have you found the attire sexy in any way until now. The suit looks much like what your team would wear day to day in the office. Always all those shy men coming into your office, stuttering through their questions and need for approvals. Jake isn’t stuttering in his suit though, he’s standing confidently at his laptop as if he hasn’t even noticed you staring yet. 

One look from him though is all he needed. Choosing this attire for someone like you is sure to mix both business and pleasure. It was a gamble of course, to bring your work home for you, but he does have the slight hope that you’ll never look at a man in a suit the same way again after this. 

And goddamn the way his abs were glistening in the dim lighting before he had turned away from you. His blazer was partially open revealing nothing but skin when he walked into the room, and you honestly wonder if he even needed to do that. He could be fully clothed at this point and you think the room would still feel hotter than usual given your mind-state. 

The way his belt held his pants on his hips was enough to have you thinking, looking as if it’s begging to be unbuckled just so the sound of it could fill your ears. The way the blazer widens his shoulders much more than the sweater from before. He looks bigger right now, both physically and in aura. 

The scent of him wafted off of him in an even prettier way when paired with his image. He smells like a sweet type of musk, something you’d be interested in drinking alongside your dinner on special occasions. And under the assumption that the scent is why his abs are fucking glistening– fucking body oil. He uses body oil for this.

His hair rustles about when he turns to face you again, this time with the bass of whatever song he’s playing accentuating each step towards you. So…the talking is done then? Your cheeks heat up at how quickly he starts his session with you, even without a single roll of his body. Already, you could eat him alive, the smirk on his face leading your eyes straight to him. 

Trailing down, down down. To his neck, that small glimpse of exposed chest, to the even more exposed lower abdomen section. His belt.

“Good?” He asks, leaning over you and placing his hands on either side of your head as he grips the couch.

You can’t look up at him, eyes training on his chest that you can now fully see through his single buttoned blazer. That same sweet musk assaulting your lungs. 

Watching you from up here, Jake can tell you’re going to be fun to play with. A woman with such a harsh exterior now melting at the mere image of him when he’s got the right lights on him. To be fair, he really was warned and prepared by your friend, which didn’t seem the type to afford him on more than one occasion.

He thought it was nice that she paid for another session, shocking him to learn that it wasn’t for herself at all. What a wonderful friend, and what a bitch you’d be to have turned him away. 

Finally, you nod to him, still eyeing his body in a shameful show of how much you genuinely did need this. What’s so bad about paying to look? Especially when the man is Jake, and he’s presenting himself like this.

“Rule number one.” Jake smiles, swaying in front of you as his grip tightens against the couch, wanting you to feel trapped and hopefully mesmerized by him, “I only accept bills of twenty, fifty, and one hundred. If you toss a fucking dollar, I’m leaving.” 

That’s clearly not an issue you could fathom having, despite your internal protests. You only carry bigger bills anyway so you nod to him, quickly forgetting he even shared that ridiculous rule that would never apply to you by means of watching his hips swirl rather than sway. You see the heaviness in his pants, and you wonder if he gets himself hard for these little shows. 

You fear looking up at his face now too, because you know he’s staring down at you, watching your every breath, every move. 

“Rule number two,” He lends down now, lowering his voice and blowing against your ear in a short breath. “Don’t touch me without being invited, or without asking.”

Now, that’s a rule that applies to you only because you immediately want to defy it. There’s a knee jerk reaction almost that makes you want to reach out, to grip his flexing body and pull it closer. You wanted to feel how slick his skin is with that wonderfully scented oil. You wanted the scent on your fingers for later, you wanted to feel how warm he must be. 

He doesn’t wait for your nod this time though, already noticing a familiar look on your face that he gets from most, if not all, of his clients. This is why he’s so in demand, after all. If he plays hard to get, sometimes he gets more out of his sessions. Sometimes he even gets a repeat client. 

“And rule number three–” He continues, this time pulling back and positioning his face in front of yours. This rule appears to be an important one, the rule where you need to look at his face rather than his body. As if it needs to be heard. “I won’t touch you unless you ask– or beg.” 

What you’re not realizing at this moment is that rule number three isn’t something he often speaks of. Sometimes, very rarely, Jake is in a mood when he goes out on a job. Condoms are always with him, just in case, but he never intends to use them or utter rule number three until meeting said client. They pay to look at him, not to touch him, however…if they pique his interest he surely offers the third rule. 

And if a client never hears of it, they know that even if they ask to touch, he would never. Even if they want him to touch, he wouldn’t touch anywhere too pleasurable. 

Meaning, you were right to assume what he was doing in your bathroom for so long. His hand felt better than usual against his length for the split second he had of tucking it into the most attractive position. He knew instantly that tonight was one of those nights, and you were to be a point of his own desire too. He played with himself for a bit, allowing himself to get half hard before coming out of the bathroom.

The way you looked at him finished the job, allowing his cock to grow to full attention at the mere sight of you fawning over him in silent discomfort. So– yeah, the third rule being for you was a given. 

And when you swallow around a lump in your throat and look dead into his eyes, he thinks you know exactly what he means too. You’re lucky his cock is acting up, hell, he’s lucky it’s acting up. Look at you, fuck. Those tired eyes look ignited, and what luck the two of you have to have ever known your best friend. 

“Deal?” He finally says, tilting his head cutely and waiting for you to nod. And you do nod, just as he suspected you would. Slowly, before glancing down at his body again. 

He knows now that it’s time to start moving. Really moving.

“Is the song okay?” He asks, now pulling back and bracing himself against the back of your couch with all of his strength. “It was picked specifically for you.”

You’re not entirely what he means by that, but you assume your friend must have told him what she thinks you’d like. 

“It’s fine.” You say, glancing away from his direct eye contact and suddenly feeling like a love-struck puppy in the way you feel so incredibly fucking shy because of him.

Jake notes that you didn’t ask what he meant by the song, but he doesn’t push. He’s better at talking with his body anyway. So, he begins to focus. Opting to start slowly and work his way up, specifically to work you up. 

He steps back and away from the couch, centering himself in your living room as he closes his eyes and stretches his arms up to loosen his body a little more. Most of his clients love to see the way his muscles move as he stretches, and he suspects you’re of the same mind. 

This entire playlist is chosen for clients like you. The ones he intends to let see all of him if they so wish to. The music is slow, the bass is strong, and each beat runs through the body in a way that makes him shiver. He can move as if he’s fucking you even from across the room without so much as a touch, and he knows you’ll realize it.

He’s at his best too, when this sort of thing happens to him. The eye contact is more intense, his hips are more pointed for a reason other than payment, and arguably he feels he’s most attractive like this too. Considering the countless times he’s been paid to dance and expose himself to women he’d never even look at twice, it always hits differently when a client is just his type. 

And when he looks at you through the start of his dance, you appear to be painfully stiff against that soft couch. He smirks, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest. If only you knew how lucky you are, knowing his clients would be on their knees for a chance to experience him like this. 

The fact that it’s your first time doing this…he’d be smart to not pull this shit on you. He’s never tried this with a new client, after all but–fuck, just look at you.

Jake’s hips move on their own for the most part, he doesn’t have to think much when he’s getting into it. He easily dances along to the music for you, as if it’s second nature to him despite not yet removing any clothing. It’s the build-up for him now, and he thinks it may be that for you too. Of course, if he leaves your house tonight with a large tip in his pocket and a hard, untouched cock, that’s fine too, though not preferable. 

You watch him the same way he watches you, after all, the electricity for this to play out is there. It’s rare that he can feel goosebumps raise on his skin by a mere look from a woman that looks far too powerful despite sitting there helpless. He’s making you helpless, the dim lighting of this room accentuating his body is making you helpless. 

And truly, you find yourself understanding with each shadow on his stomach as to why he’s so favored in the groups of lonely women. Arguably, you’re shocked your best friend decided to share him.

As the song begins to fade, Jake readjusts himself. He watches you during the brief silence, a sort of fondness in his eyes making you wonder if he’s looking at you or if he does this for everyone. It feels intimate with the way his eyes slowly scan your body in the quiet room. As if the silence doesn’t need to be filled with anything other than eye contact.

For him though, a woman has never met his eye between songs. Typically, their eyes are glued to his chest, cock, hands, and neck– never his eyes. They’re muttering, moaning, or shouting for him to hurry up, that the clock is ticking and they want to see more. But not you. Even as the next song plays, your eyes stay focused on his until he looks away and starts closing the distance. He skews his body now, allowing you to see him in profile. 

In some ways, you have him feeling a bit flustered in the way you keep meeting his eye despite his body making a show for you. He’s never had to act with his face more than he has with you, even as he drops to his knees during a particular part in the song, thrusting his hips forward in an attempt to make you imagine yourself bent over on the floor in front of him. 

He glances to his side, and still you’re searching his face.

He, now, looks back down for a moment, finding himself trying to guide yours somewhere else. He knows his job is to be looked at, to be seen, but this is far too seen for his liking. Thankfully, your eyes do follow his, and you gasp at the way he moves. 

Your mouth falls open, gripping the hem of your dress as you imagine exactly what he intended.

The fact that this is your first time, Jake realizes this is new ground for him too. Typically, he speaks with his body and it appears now, he needs to portray some form of sexuality to you with his eyes. Like the roles are switched, he has to do to you what you’re supposed to be doing to him.

This is new, but warranted. Easy, even, for him to do it because he does want you.

You watch him intently, not fully realizing that you’re barely watching him fuck the air in front of him. Yeah, you see that too, but your eyes always go back to his and now, his own gaze is meeting yours. His gaze is searching your body, watching you move in reaction. From the way your fingers grip at the clothes he’d like to see on the floor later, to the way you slightly rub your legs together in a way that is almost too easy to miss. This alone is enough for him as his eyes burn their gaze into you. Much like you’re supposed to be doing to him.

He’s supposed to be able to look at you and know exactly what you’re thinking. So be it, the least he can do is let you know what he’s thinking. 

Jake’s dance is more intentional now when he leans back on his arms, throwing his head back but keeping his head turned towards you. He tries to show you specifically what he would do to you. That bulge in his pants is large and blatant as he thrusts forward and back to the music. You glance to it, offering the same jittery reactions of arousal. 

And this is when he allows his blazer to slide off of his shoulders, reaching to unbutton that single clasp for it to go sliding to the floor. He continues his movements through it, watching your eyes move to his arms and the strength used to hold himself up, his skin more and more visible to you. You do try to keep eye contact but…well, the way his abs flex when he presses forward, going concave with each inhale of those sensual lips that constantly smirk at you. 

It’s a shame, really, to know that the bulge in his pants will remain there, unseen. 

With his blazer now pooled at his wrists, he regains his focus. He wants you so badly by this point that it’s driving him crazy how hard he’s having to work for it. You’re supposed to be feeling this way, not him. Even if he can see that his routine is causing a reaction from you, he’s practically masturbating himself against the inseam of his pants just to get you to say something to him. 

Meaning, he needs to work harder. The current song is soon to be replaced with another, his favorite to dance to, his favorite to fuck to. And to be fair, by the time this playlist gets to this song on this specific playlist, usually his clients are already shaking under him. Not you though, you’re holding yourself back and he can fucking see it.

He ignores the fact that it’s technically not time for him to move on to his next set of dancing, mostly because he almost never has to get to this part, he leaves his blazer on your floor as he positions himself back on his knees, turning towards you this time and looking you straight in the eyes. The fact that he’s hard and horny is enough to amplify the way he’s looking at you, confidence so high that he’s fine with being seen in any way you want.

He’s slow when he does it, crawling a few steps closer to you. You watch the way his shoulders move in the light, his eyes rounded and cheeky, his hair falling in front of them with a charming movement. It’s not intentional when you rub your legs together at the image yet again, very much wanting to spread them the closer he gets to you. 

You can’t help but think he looks smaller on his hands and knees, eyes looking up at you as if he could eat you whole. You do wonder if your face reads the same for him, with the nervousness hitting you off and on. 

“You’re hot when you look down at me like that.” Jake mutters out of nowhere under the veil of his music, stopping in place in front of you, planting himself right at your feet. “I’d like to touch you, is that okay?”

Nevermind the fact that Jake has never actually had to ask to touch a client before, he really can’t help it at this point. His cock is aching in his pants and he isn’t quite ready to wait an entire playlist worth of songs just to put his clothes back on and leave the door with pain between his legs. He very much wants to fuck something right now, preferably someone.

You.

On the other hand, he’s pleased to see how fucking fast you accept his request. Yes, he can touch you. Fuck, you want him to touch you.

And the whole idea that this is just him doing his job is so far in the back of your mind right now that you almost forget that he probably does this to most of the women he’s paid to entertain. Quite frankly, you don’t give a fuck. You can pretend that he only does this for you, you can live in a fantasy just for a night. 

Jake lends you a smile as the current song finally fades out, the silence back except this time, you’re not looking into his eyes when you nod. 

He’s slow when he places his hand on your knees, rubbing up, up, up until he’s able to lift himself and hover over you. He intentionally pushes your dress up your thighs, solely because he wanted to see you rub them together in full, shameless view for him. He wants to know what his body does for you. What it does to you. 

And he stands, hovering over you for a moment with his hands glued to your thighs before he stares down at them. You just do as he expected, you rub your legs together, you look anywhere but at his eyes now, your hands grip the couch beneath you.

“I’m going to get on top of you,” Jake says now, dipping his head into your line of sight and forcing eye contact again, now gripping the back of the couch rather than your thighs, Just as he did when all of this started. “Would you like that?”

“Do you do this for all of your clients?” You suddenly ask with a smaller voice than you gave him upon opening your door. You breathe in sharply when he moves instead of answering your question immediately. 

He spreads his legs, propping himself right on your lap, facing towards you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest radiating near your face. 

“What kind of answer are you looking for?” He laughs fondly, grabbing your hands and placing them on his chest. “You should touch me, by the way.” He foregoes his own rule with that one, not wanting to wait any longer for you to maybe ask him yourself. “Just pull away if you don’t want to.” He adds, guiding your hands over his chest and down his abdomen.

“You didn’t answer my question–” You interrupt him, feeling the warmth pool and drip into your panties. “It’s a yes or no question.”

He chuckles sweetly, stopping your hands at his abs and holding them there. 

“No,” he admits, moving his focus to the music now that he’s got your hands on him. “I don’t do this for all  of my clients.” 

Jake isn’t sure why he does it, but now he can’t bring himself to look at you. The eye contact feels more intimate than it should with you asking him such a question and demanding an answer. Even as he swirls his hips, feeling his clothed cock rub up and against you every few seconds, it feels almost too intimate. 

“Oh, yeah?” You nervously chuckle back, feeling his muscles move beneath your hand as he thrusts his hips forward. 

“You know,” He mutters, guiding your hands a bit lower despite his own confusion at how much he’s enjoying this moment with you. You feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against your palm and you think he’s going to stop there, like maybe this is just something he does to amp up the show or something, but no. He drags your hand down further until you feel the warmth of his cock under his pants..  

Your pulse quickens as your ears start to ring. Your eyes avoid where your hand is right now, taking in a deep breath and looking up at him with question. He’s not looking back though, instead, his head is dropped and he’s staring at his pathetic bulge against your hand. He’s dancing into it, against it.

“I’ve never gotten this hard over a client that doesn’t want me.” He admits shamefully in a pathetic little laugh, bucking against your palm again to the beat of the song. “I can’t tell if I’m doing my job well enough.”

You feel shocked at that. A client that doesn’t want him? Is he fucking insane?! Then again, you need to be honest with yourself sometimes. You’ve tried to appear as uninterested as possible until he started crawling to you. There is clear attraction, obvious needs swirling in the air right now. You force yourself now to look at your hand with the hefty bulge rubbing desperately against it. The sheer size of him is something entirely different from what you were expecting out of him. This feels forbidden.

Wrong, even, But goddamn. The man is masquerading his dance solely so he can fuck against your right now. Maybe you should show some interest. 

“You’re doing well, Jake,” You finally mutter to him, the first compliment you’ve given since he got here. 

“Yeah?’ He sighs out, relieved as his hips press harder into your palm. Arguably, he’s not even dancing at this point, just trying to get off. “How well?”

Yeah, he’s a little desperate at this point for you to do something on your own. It’s so out of character for him to do all of this just to…well, get off.

“Show me,” He raises his brows, now removing his hands from yours and running them up his chest. His hips continue to move on you, and he watches you as you hold your hand in place. “Come on, the buckle is right there–” he nearly pleads. “You don’t have to be shy.”

Like a book, the two of you read the other at this moment. You’re not a woman of many words and he seems to understand that now, taking your single compliment and running with it. You do as he says, unbuckling his belt and now, sliding your hands up his body to meet his. 

“There you go,” He stresses through another relieved sigh. Leaving your hands where they are against his chest and sliding the belt from his loops on his own. He tosses the belt behind him, relishing in that lost look in your eye.

You clearly have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you seem to like it. And god, does he fucking love it. Especially when he motions his head back down, forcing your hands back to where they belong and helping you unbutton his pants. 

“Take it out, go on.” He says in a rush, “I’m asking you to do it.”

To be fair, you’re going to do it despite the nervousness in your gut. It’s been so long since you’ve touched a man, and even longer since you wanted to. You could half argue that you feel like you’re about to lose your virginity right now despite all those hook-ups in college. Still, you don’t even nod at him when you do it. Carefully tugging his pants down and watching the weight of his cock do the rest of the work for you. 

His legs spread wider as he points it up at you, a lewd scene, one that feels both disgustingly sexy and very, very, straight forward. You’ve never been like this with any other person. Or rather, no one has ever blatantly shown themselves like this to you. 

And still, Jake just looks at you. So much eye contact becoming more and more comfortable as he learns what you seem to like. He can feel the air in your apartment against the head of his cock, the cool air rushing past his shaft and causing him to shiver with a very quiet moan. He still only looks at you during this moment, wondering why you’ve let your hands fall to his thighs. Then he sees a new look in your eyes.

Are you…waiting to be told what to do? 

For some reason, he keeps forgetting that you’ve never had a stripper in your home before, let alone been seduced by one. Honestly though, he assumed you’d catch on by the point his cock was out. This isn’t for show anymore, he wants you. 

“Touch me?” He asks gently, reaching back down to your hands and urging you to grab his cock. “You don’t even have to move, I can do the rest–” He chokes out a groan mid-sentence as he feels you grasp him in your fist.

Such a silent woman beneath him. He can only read you in specific moments, this one not at all being one of them. You’re hesitant but willing, perhaps? You leave him questioning himself and his own motives, still wondering if that compliment you gave him was genuine or just part of your own little show. 

Yet still, you’re gripping him tightly and allow him to focus his hopes. Dancing beautifully into that little circle your hand creates for him. The best part is that when or if he ever actually dances to this song, it’s when he’s blatantly fucking someone. So the movements come naturally, just as they would if your legs were buckling and your pussy was spread open on him. So, basically, this dance is nothing short of fucking your fist, pretending to keep up an act that he so wishes you’d see through. 

He keeps his face intense, moving his shoulders and arms as if it’s easy for him to turn the tables and position you to where your legs are on his shoulders and he’s rubbing his cock against your, hopefully, soaked panties.  

It’s a struggle though, to not moan out in desperation when you tighten your grip on him. He watches your pupils blow out, and can see the way you’d now probably ask him to do just that. To put it on you, to shove it in you. And so, he slows his hips a bit and catches his breath, staring down at you in wait. 

“You’re really expecting me to get off all on my own?” He finally says in an exasperated breath to your stillness and silence. He really is, trying to act as though he can’t see the look in your eyes and how it’s changed since he started dancing. “Baby, don’t you want it?” He adds, now waiting to see if you’ll move your hand away from him.

You don’t though, to his surprise, you actually start moving your hand on him. You’re jerking him off, staring up at him like you want it, squeezing the head of his cock before dragging those pretty fingers back down. 

Instantly his eyes roll back. “Fuck, that’s good,” He compliments your hand, shaking a bit and shivering at the fact that you really just did that. “Can I stop pretending that I’m still dancing for you now?”  

You find it in yourself to chuckle now, nodding with a confident sort of smile. It hit you fairly quickly, actually, as you watched him chase his pleasure all by himself. He’s so hard, and so incredibly thick in your hand, you’d be stupid to say it didn’t turn you on. It’s that fact that you’ve barely said anything to him and he’s begging you to look at him, to watch him, to touch him. All of your nervousness slowly disappeared because it was being replaced with power. 

Now, that, you’re used to. You know what power feels like in all aspects of the working world, but never at home. Never when sex is involved. You’re always expected to play the part of a desperate woman in need of love, and that’s just not you. No, you’re a powerful woman with nerves that could kill you. And the way Jake parallels your working world, it’s almost too perfect. You’re used to men being beneath you, begging for your money, giving you all of their attention, apologizing for normal human errors. 

Jake isn’t exactly begging you for money, but he’s still begging for your hands. 

“No.” You finally say, relishing in the shock on Jake’s face. “Keep dancing, it’s what you’re being paid to do.”

His eyes fall a bit now as he nods his head. You almost feel his cock falter at the same time at your response, but you move your hand a bit faster. You grip a bit tighter, urging him to do whatever it is that’s on his mind. You want to see if he will actually do as he’s told now, considering you’re the one with the money to bring him back here. 

It’s endearing how he does his best, and honestly, his best probably far surpasses some of the most notable dancers on the market if you had any idea of how they were. It’s just a bit hard to continue this act for him when you’re gripping his cock in such a beautiful way. 

“You’re–” He pauses to hold in a moan, feeling the way you drag your hand in time with his dance. “You’re not going to ask me to touch you?” He finally adds, meeker than before, far less confidence. 

In fact, he’s hiding his face.

You smile in response, looking up at him with dark and wide pupils as you swallow each movement his body makes for you. Your ears are still ringing, unable to comprehend the music blasting in your sound system. Your focus is solely on him, your hands are on him, your confidence is because of him. 

The answer to that question should be a given, after all, shouldn’t he be well aware considering this little stunt he pulled that actions truly speak louder than words?

“No wonder she liked you so much.” You start, now loosening your grip on him just to see the way his hips frantically chase the warmth of your palm.

“Wait–” He asks slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed and bashful. “You really thought, I let her get me off like this?” 

It almost pisses him off that you’d say that to him, then again, it’s not like you knew that this specific instance is rare and reserved for very few clients. 

“You couldn’t even look at me properly thirty minutes ago, now you think you can make assumptions?” He argues, pushing away from you.

Your response is skewing an eyebrow at him, watching him fight for control as he pulls his hips back and shuffles off of you and onto his feet. You glance down at his cock and the way it stands painfully erect, twitching at the sudden lack of friction. 

“Is it wrong to assume when you very clearly want me to make you cum?” 

He stills himself, a blank expression turning to that of a devilish smile, eyes narrowing at you as he leans over you. 

“Are you suggesting that you’ll get me off?”

You smile, spreading your legs a bit and feeling the stickiness drip through your panties now. 

“She did tell me that some clients have gotten special treatment from you,” You mock him slightly, watching his eyes glue themselves to your thighs. You make a show to spread your legs a bit for him. “I also know that she was no such client.”

A small moment of silence as he devours you with his eyes, seemingly interested in the attitude you have towards him now.

“I also didn’t imagine your clients would be the ones getting you off.” 

Honestly, it’s like he hit the fucking jackpot with you. Challenging him, mocking him with his cock out in front of you. If you so much as wiggled your cunt in front of him, he would instantly be back on his knees, letting you soak his face in whatever way you please. 

“Normally they’d be jumping at the chance, you though–” Jake very nearly growls at you with a deepened voice. “You look like you’re the one who needs to get off, if anything to get that snarky grin off your face.”

“Go on then, dance.”

It’s almost like a game now, he feels. You know he’s trying to seduce you and it seems you’re enjoying the fact that you haven’t let him yet. He knows that you intend to let him, so yeah, fuck yeah, he’s going to play along. 

He raises a brow at you as he steps back once more, trying to ignore the fact that his cock is aching to be touched again. You still want your show? Good. He’ll fucking give you a show.

Jake does as he’s told, finally kicking his pants off in full and keeping his eyes on you the entire time. He watches the way your legs spread when he rubs his hands down his naked chest, straight down to his cock where he only briefly tugs at himself. He can almost see under your dress as you continue to spread your legs more and more, but the lighting is far too dim to see what his act is doing to you just yet.

When he saunters behind you, dipping his head by your neck and whispering the dirtiest part of the song into your ear, he can see your sharp intake of air, and he watches the way your breasts move with each breath he forces out of you, and the way your nipples perk through the fabric.

So, he stays here behind you with his hips pressed to the back of your couch, ghosting his hands over your neck, moving down your arms, and then to your chest. He doesn’t touch, because you still haven't asked yet, but he knows hovering alone is enough. It’s like he can feel the electricity beneath his fingers somehow reaching your skin. 

  And he continues to sing against your ear, leaning further forward to plant his hands on your thighs again, mostly because he’s already been given permission to touch you there. 

“More,” He gently demands between lyrics. “Spread them all the way.”

Jake watches for a moment from behind you, pressing his cock against the back of the couch the moment he sees your legs stretch open, your dress hiking up past your waist, enough now that he can at least see a glimpse of the skin closest to your pussy. 

“Ask me to touch you.” He pleads against your ear, trailing his fingers up your thighs enough to where he would need you to tell him to stop otherwise. “Just tell me you want it.” 

It’s silent save for the music playing, and his cock is aching so badly by this point that each time he rubs against the couch he’s almost breaking down to fucking beg you to let him touch you. That alone could make him cum, but god, you’re so good at playing hard to get even if it’s blatantly obvious that he’s already got you. 

You’re fucking playing with him, and he can’t decide if he loves it or hates it. 

Your silence is so damning to his dripping cock, and his skin feels so hot right now that he’s almost forgotten that he was paid to be doing anything that’s not this. 

“No.” You playfully respond, dangling yourself just out of reach. You breathe in deep though, knowing you can’t keep denying him for much longer with the way his hands are rubbing at you. “I like it better when you’re the one asking for it.” You lean your head back and rest it against the cushions of the couch, and he instantly moves from your neck to look down at you. 

Oh. 

“Cute.” He says, having no issue at all to be the one to ask, beg, plead, or cry. Whatever it takes to get a feel of you at this point. It’s just…new to him.

Another long moment of eye contact has him trailing his hands higher than before, almost to the point that there’s no skin on your thighs to touch that doesn’t involve your panty line. 

“May I?” He asks, leaning down a bit closer so that his face is mere inches from yours. “Will you take my fingers?” 

You could mistake this distance as something that should not be crossed between the two of you. Barely hearing his question at this moment, the only thing you want to do is to kiss him, and it hit you so fucking fast that you almost forgot he’s doing anything you ask of him. 

“Come again?” You smile, blinking up at him. 

He breathes in, seemingly frustrated.

“My fingers. Take them.” He says rather than asking this time, already moving his hands to trace up your panties and feeling the wetness seep through onto his fingertips. “You’re already dripping–baby,” He stops to moan at it, amazed by how fucking soaked you are. “I can imagine they’d slide right in.” 

Typically, you wouldn’t allow anyone to call you that. “Baby.” but coming from his mouth, it sounds fitting. It sounds seductive, sexy. It has your stomach in knots, actually, your hips bouncing up just slightly at his words with the pet name attached. Finally, you let him. Finally, you grind yourself against his fingers. 

“I’ll make you feel so good–” He groans at your movements, loving how desperate you suddenly appear despite pretending you weren’t going to work for your own pleasure. He continues to trace his fingers up and down just to feel the mess of you, the one that he created, and the one that he intends to make messier. 

“Moving your hips isn’t the answer though, baby.”

You swear he can read your mind, there’s no fucking way he would say it like that without knowing how you just internally admitted to liking it. 

“Yes,” You let out shortly, darting your eyes away from him. “I’ll take them.”

That breathy laugh he releases sounds sweet, almost dripping like syrup when he lays his head beside your neck. His soft singing picks back up as he listens to you now more than the music, his fingers continuously ghosting where he promised to put them, not yet moving your panties. 

Paired with it, his abdomen stays tense as he humps against your couch, his muscles locking up at the pleasure running through him in this position. Your hips lightly chase his fingers, up when his fingers move down, and he can’t help the shy smile that spreads across his lips. It’s one you don’t see, but the constant shift in your personality is something that keeps him on edge. Keeps him wanting more, to know more, to see and feel more of you. 

And when he finally reaches around you with his other hand, pulling your panties to the side and exposing your pussy, he watches you take over for him and push them down instead, offering far more than he anticipated. He watches as you kick them off your ankles almost elegantly, as if you could do this job of dancing better than he can.

“Eager?” He teases, knowing you won’t respond to that. And you don’t. It pleases him to know that at least by now, he can kind of read you. Yet, still, there’s nothing more at this moment that would please him more than getting to see you in full. To wander back around this couch and get a real good, close up look at what he’s doing to you. 

“You’re so wet right now.” He groans, knowing that you were soaked before and only hoping you’re dripping more and more for him now. His cock is weeping as much as he’d like for you to be, chasing any amount of friction he could have. And he can see his fingers slip and slide through your slick into places he wasn’t even attempting to touch just yet solely because of how wet you are. 

“You held out for so long,” He coos now with a soft breath against your neck, feeling your cheek nuzzle against his flexing arm. “Look at that,” Two of his fingers tease at your hole before– “they slipped right in.”

Your breathing is labored by this point, feeling him play with you as if he has all the time in the world to fuck with your head. Which is…nice. No rushing despite the time limit on his session, proving time and time again that you’re getting more than others get from him. Lucky you, that you can moan out without shame for him. 

And you do, grabbing his hand and practically fucking yourself with his fingers. That takes him by surprise as the warmth and sheer tightness envelopes his digits. You are excruciatingly sexy to him, he doesn’t even attempt to stop you.

In fact, he doesn’t even hold back now, meeting each chase of your hips with the force of his fingers plunging into you deeply, with full intention. He scissors them open, feeling your hole stretch around them beautifully enough to fit in a third. And god, you’re so fucking wet. He can hear the slapping of his soaked fingers inside of you pushing more and more of that arousal out. 

He moans blatantly against your ear now, easing you into talking back to you. 

“Bet you could take cock so well–” He murmurs, feeling you shiver against his grasp. “How long has it been? Hm?”

He’s talking to you, yes, but hyping himself up at the same time. The scent of your hair forcing a slight obsession with you in his mind. The way you feel, look, smell, move when you’re just inches from him like this. He knows you won’t respond to a goddamn thing he says too, but it doesn’t matter too much to him at this point. Because now, you’re whimpering.

Such a confident, well respected woman…fucking whimpering.

“What was that?” He asks playfully, running his other hand up your body until he gets to your neck. “Has it been that long?”

And for the first time, you were going to answer. For the first time, he doesn’t leave room for you to answer. Instead, you feel his palm resting flush against your neck, now pressing in and practically holding you down by the neck as he fucks his fingers into you faster. 

Painfully faster.

“Cry for me again,” He encourages you, wincing as his own hips frantically chase the back of your couch. “You’re allowed, come on, do it again.”

And because he’s working for it, because he’s doing so fucking well, you let out another choked moan. His hand straining your neck so tightly that any sound coming out sounds strained and desperate, even the sound of yourself right now ignites a fire inside of you. You can feel that grasp tighten each time his fingers fuck into you with a painful jab, his palm placed so perfectly that you can feel your clit being rubbed each time he pulls his hand back.

It’s…overwhelming.

“Yes, fuck- again.” He groans, bucking his hips forward and frantically lifting his head from your shoulder, all so he can look down at you. He’s heard you, now he wants to fucking see how desperate you are when you cry out. 

When you open your eyes again, wincing every few seconds at both the pleasure and pain of his desperate hands, all you can see is his face. All you can feel are those same long fingers threatening more and more cries from your chest. He’s hitting spots inside of you that haven't been touched in a long time. Feeling it now almost burns, even with the cold metal of that single ring on his finger against your neck. 

And when he tightens that hand on your neck once more, not only do you cry out, but he matches you with his own stuttered gasp. You strain to keep your eyes on him through this moment, watching the way his teeth appear to scrape at his bottom lip when the sound of you envelopes his ears. So, you do it again, and again, and again. 

His fingers only continue their aggressive assault inside of you, his palms still hitting your clit, and that other hand around your throat…honestly? You could fucking sing songs to him at this moment if he so wished it. 

“You’re shaking.” He comments, eyes flicking to your body. “Can you even breathe right now?”

His smile looks so fucking mean, knowing full well that you can’t breathe and only tightening his hand harder against your throat. Nevermind the fact that you never discussed this type of thing with him, fucking wasn’t even in the agenda. But now? Fuck it. You do like it. Maybe you even love it. The way you’re moaning for him is all either of you need to know. 

This time though, when you moan out and it’s sounding particularly raspy, he releases his hand from your throat and instantly leans down to your lips. He’s a bit shocked that you immediately strain your neck to kiss him. What he was going to do was degrade you. Now though, he’s just tasting the way you’re so desperate to kiss him. As if you’re wanting this to be real, to be intimate. 

Arguably, your idea was better than his own because now he can’t bring himself to degrade you. In fact, he was stupid to even consider such a fucking thing. Despite never kissing his clients, things with you have already lasted far longer than he’d normally allow. Things have already surpassed the intimacy level he allows too, even with the very few lucky women who get to touch him. He’s never asked for it, and he’s never gotten this much of his own pleasure out of finger fucking them. Not once has he ever fucked himself against a couch to hold himself back for a woman either. 

Maybe just this once, he can want it to be real too. Even if he leaves with a pocket full of cash, the fantasy right now is enough for him to accept it as is. If you want him to kiss you, he will fucking kiss you.

His pupils grow as his eyes close, slowing his fingers unintentionally as he focuses on your lips and tongue. Even his body against your couch relaxes and his hips slow to that of a sensual thrust forward, one that offers a long and painful drag against his already raw and reddened cock. You kiss him back better than he’s even been kissed before, and falling into it was terrifyingly easy. 

His brain nearly short circuits at the softness of it, allowing his hands to move on their own accord, cupping your jaw with one hand and emptying your pussy to rub your clit with the other. He’s intentionally deepening the kiss far past his own comfort level.

But he is comfortable, and that’s precisely what’s uncomfortable about it. 

“You can take it–” Jake mutters between kisses, more focused on your lips than the words he spilling to you. “You want more, right?” He continues, only now pulling back in a breath and waiting for you to adjust your eyes on his. 

Immediately, when you open your eyes they widen at him. Goddamn, was he this sexy before? Did he even look this into you when he was on your lap fucking your fist? Out of all of his begging, this…this right here. Are you really about to fuck a stripper? The man you were so against meeting just this morning? The man who has $600 in his bank account from your lovely, fucking adored and beautiful best friend? 

The man that you’re probably going to give the entirety of the contents in your purse to the moment he packs up and moves on as if this never happened?

Yes.

“I want more–” You say to him, blinking at his pretty eyes and intentionally rubbing your clit against his fingers, mostly because it appears as if he’s stopped functioning all together.

And before you can even blink, his fingers are pulled away and his presence is gone. You lift your head to watch him, cock still erect and heavy against his thigh as he goes directly to his bag. As if he knew it was going to happen, as if this was his plan before he even met you, he pulls out a condom and slips it on without so much as a sigh of relief.

After all, he does have to take precautions to be fucking an absolute stranger like this.

“Oh.” You huff in disappointment, not entirely meaning for him to hear it. 

He raises his eyes to you as he pulls at the end of the condom, offering plenty of space for whatever release he intends to have soon, but his eyes don’t seem concerned nor bothered. 

“What? You want it raw?” He asks playfully, wiggling his eyebrows briefly before making his way back to you. “That’ll require a bit more discussion, you know.”

Discussion that neither of you are willing to have solely because your pussy is throbbing and his cock appears to be more pathetic than it already was being strangled in that thin layer of latex. And without another word, allowing both of you to put that to rest for now, he’s right back over you, lifting your dress up and off of you. 

“Fuck.” He breathes out as your tits falls from their perfect place within the dress. The sopping wet couch beneath you only soaking up more of your slick as his words force more out of you. God, you feel so wanted. 

You keep your arms lifted to help him ease the dress entirely off of you, leaving you bare beneath him as he instantly goes to grab both tits, pressing them together before flicking both nipples with the tips of his fingers. 

Your body jolts at the sensation, feeling it run through you and swell your clit more than it already was. The ache is worse, your hole is pulsing, yearning, wanting to be filled. Still though, he takes his precious expensive time, leaning down and sucking one erect nub into his mouth and flicking it all the same with his tongue. 

“Right here?” He mouths from around your tit, eyes closed and tongue still focused elsewhere. “You want to be fucked here?” He mumbles again, realizing that his question will likely go unanswered. It’s very likely that he is going to fuck you right here, on your living room couch. Asking you such a thing was stupid, borderline cringe-worthy. 

To his surprise though, you lend him a small “no.” as you lace your fingers in his hair, pushing his lips to your other nipple just to feel the warmth of his tongue.

“No?” He questions, blinking up at you from your chest before biting gently around the sensitive bud against his mouth. “Where then?” 

To his dismay, your smile is still beautiful but the way you close your legs and sit yourself up from the slouched, relaxed position you were in disappoints him. Mostly because he’s now forced to stand up too, and even more so because he has to keep his head dipped in order to keep his mouth on that perfect nipple of yours. 

His disappointment fades as you hold his head there, feeling your legs almost buckle against him when he moans around it, sending vibrations through your chest. You remain gentle though, wobbling on your legs and shuffling forward, allowing him to continue his antics. Slowly but surely, you turn him around and back him up against the couch.

Only now, when you push him back and his teeth graze your sensitive nub do you realize that he’s so, so much needier than you expected. Even with his begging, his little disappointed sound didn’t go unnoticed. His brows are still furrowed now, not even paying attention to the fact that you’ve just shoved him down so that you can be the one straddling him. It’s cute, actually. Noticing how he was so intimidating when he came into your house, walking with confidence, dancing with intention, finger fucking you and choking you as if he had a right to do it…only to now look at him and the way he’s melting.

The way he’s needy, borderline puppy-like to be near you.

His eyebrows shoot up from that little face of disappointment though, when you pull yourself from his mouth and instead plant yourself right on his lap, letting your pussy lips envelope the underside of his cock as you grind up immediately.

It’s the first slippery touch his cock has felt all night and honestly? He’s been on edge this entire time. You grind so fucking beautifully, and it’s a first for him to realize that he’s entirely speechless.

You’ve rendered him incapable of speaking. 

“You’re cute, I don’t think you realize that.” You comment, gliding against his cock and watching his hands reach out to grip your waist, “Really cute.”

He doesn’t falter at your compliments, instead he just melts into it even more. His cheeks are permanently blushed as he leans forward to try and get your tits in his face again, and all you can do is grip his hair and let him. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the head of a cock bumping your clit, and you’d never forgive yourself for not letting yourself have this kind of fun more often. 

And Jake just gets whinier. His cock pulses and twitches to be inside of you all the while despite the discomfort of that latex layer likely needing to be replaced already. Still, his hands keep moving your waist, pushing and pulling you faster against him until– ah.

You angle yourself perfectly when he slides your upwards again. All you had to do was perk your ass out and wait for him to push you back down. Finally, he slides in without fully realizing that’s what was going to happen, and goddamn the sound he makes, fuck.

“Mmfuck,” He winces, digging his nails into your hips at the speed of which he bottomed out. The breath is knocked out of him and all you can do is stare down. Look at him now, so docile and sweet like he wasn’t fucking your livingroom floor prior to this. 

And the grip of you on him, so strong. The slide was so easy, so fast, that he genuinely is seeing stars at how good you feel wrapped around him. The velvet walls inside of you pulsing, pushing and squeezing his cock all over. He can’t help the sounds he makes, grunting and feeling that grip you have in his hair intensify his pleasure. 

Both of you now let out a long winded breathy groan at the sensation of your body adjusting to his, in all fairness, you had to grip onto something and his hair just so happened to be the best thing at the moment. He seems to love it though, so when you finally regain your senses of being absolutely fucking full, you pull at it again, tilting his head back so that you can see the expanse of his neck and the way it moves when he swallows. 

“Bounce.” He croaks out at you, eyes glistening with pure fucking hope that you will. 

And, well…when you feel his length pulse in place inside of you, you do exactly as he asked. You bounce, taking his full, thick cock each and every time. Not allowing a single inch of it to be neglected. All he can do in response is squint, trying to keep his eyes open through each breathy groan of praise and encouragement. He does lose himself entirely to the feeling of euphoria and the pain of how harshly you keep his head tilted back. 

He really didn’t think you could get any sexier, honestly, and as far as he’s concerned…if he moves right now he’s going to cum. So, he doesn’t. Instead, he just lazily smiles at you and lets his eyes finally close so that he can fall right back into the state of seeing nothing but stars.

Frustrated, yet incredibly turned on by the way you’ve just completely lost him, you bounce harder, then you sit flush against him, twisting and swirling your hips. Grinding forward back, counting how he moans each time you do something that feels particularly sensitive for him. And you hang onto that, repeating those actions, lifting your ass and sliding back down. Again and again, until your legs shake and your fingers threaten to pull his hair too hard.

“Look at you now,” You half-chuckle out of breath, hearing the wet slaps of skin on skin paired with his blatant and sensual moans drowning out the playlist that has been long forgotten. “You can’t even move.”

All he does is nod his head, that same lazy and cocky smile appears as if to insinuate that you’re damn fucking right he can’t. Like he’s proud of it. And you’re not going to ignore the fact that his hands are still on your waist either, gripping onto you so tightly that you fear he could draw blood if you move the wrong way.

“Keep going, baby–” He somehow manages to say to you. “Don’t stop.”

There it is. This entire time he’s been begging to fuck you, and now he’s finally begging you to fuck him. His voice still sounds like honey, with that impressively hard cock inside of you pulsing so constantly that you could probably feel him in your stomach if you were to press against it. 

“Mhm,” You answer him, promising that you won’t stop through just a half-moan and a long winded intake of air. Honestly? At this very moment, you feel like you’re sitting on a throne. Jake, obviously, being said throne but whatever. The fucking power he’s making you feel is nothing short of alluring. 

And now, as that power goes to your head, you opt to grind rather than bounce for him now. Your hips aren’t as erratic, yet still he tenses up for you, forcing his cock to somehow feel even harder as you fuck it into yourself through lazy drags of your clit against his pelvis. 

If you keep going like this, you could cum in an instant. But before you can even finish that thought, you look down at him on instinct due to his sudden silence. 

His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, and his mouth is open in a silent moan. You can see that he’s not breathing, seemingly holding his breath even after you release his hair. His head lolls back with that same expression, and that’s when you feel his fingernails dig.

“Oh,” You moan, now resuming your grinding much harder now, making a point to bump your clit repeatedly against him. “Fuck, are you cumming right now?”

Still he doesn’t respond, you can only feel his hips stutter under you despite trying to remain entirely still and stiff for you. You know that now is when you need to be chasing, because you’ll be damned if you’re not going to cum with him inside of you. 

You want to be full like this, you want to squeeze him, to play with his sensitive cock even if it starts to soften. He’s too pretty, too fucking pretty when he whimpers. And so, you continue grinding, up until you’re on the brink of your orgasm but not quite there yet. To the point his cock is only half in you with the way you’re angling your clit against him, chasing your own high so aggressively that you barely feel his fingers tightening on you again. 

Jake shoots his head back up, eyes opening as the sensitivity hits him quicker than he would have liked, but you don’t relent. The pain is intense from how hard you’re riding him, but he can see how close you are, the image alone compliments that sensitivity he’s feeling right now. 

He seethes out painful praises to you as your desperate cunt finally reaches orgasm, squeezing against his softening length so tightly that he can’t help but whimper with you. Still, he studies your face through his own winces, shuddering at the way you close your legs around him despite them being forced to stay open in this position. You try to curl into the pleasure, as if you wish you could disappear completely alongside it. 

And god, the way you grip at his arms for leverage as you shake through it. Dare he say…he’s fond of you. It still hurts, but it kind of hurts more when he knows it’s over. Mostly because it feels like he’s been in this room with you for days, knowing that’s not true. Surely he’s stayed longer than your allotted time with him, but you seemed to have given him something worth staying for at least.

When you slump over him, he almost wants to cry from how fucking sensitive he is right now. Thankfully, you seem sensitive too as you wince before he does, remaining as gentle as you can when you reach down to the base of his cock and hold the condom, allowing him to slide out of you at his own pace. 

And then, the playlist comes to an abrupt end at just the wrong moment, because it forces Jake to realize that he hadn’t stayed at all over his paid time frame. Now, all he can hear is the way his breath is entirely too uneven compared to any of his sessions with prior clients like this. He’s breathing much too fondly for you, or rather, not breathing well because of you. He can’t just…go home can he?

“You okay?” You ask to the slight panicked look on his face, seeing how he stares straight up at the ceiling, not blinking, no readable expression. “Jake?”

He shakes himself out of it, eyes slowly moving and blinking to look at you.

“That–” He tries to talk, genuinely, he does. “Um…”

The change in atmosphere almost freaks you out. Isn’t this what he wanted? You saw the way he lost himself there briefly though, you can admit. None of this was even that rough or kinky, so you’re a bit confused as to why he’s acting like this.

Maybe you even feel a bit guilty. Like you’re the problem. So, you silence yourself and lift onto weak legs to stumble and find your dress. You throw it on quickly, hiding your shame that he so wanted to see just fifteen minutes ago. Then, you head for your purse and grab every single bill you have folded neatly inside. 

Just like that, you place the money in his shaking hand and can’t bare to look at him.

“Wha-” He starts, licking his dried lips and sitting up a bit too quickly. “Why are you giving me so much?”

“It’s your tip.” You try to say casually as you clear your throat. “You can shower too, if you’d like.” 

Jake holds his breath, hoping you don’t genuinely think he did all of that for the money. He was already paid to be here, the whole…you know, fucking thing, was his doing. What happened was because he wanted it, and…he still does. Are you truly just strictly back to business like this? You literally just handed him his rent for the month and then some, it kind of amazes him. The audacity. As if he’s never been handed handsome sums of cash from drunken lonely women. You aren’t a woman who needs him, and yet you pay like you did. 

“Shower with me?” He forces himself to ask, because he knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t. After all, this tip feels like a rejection of what just happened. Hush money, even. 

He doesn’t know what just crept into this room through the fucking silence, but he doesn’t like it. And it seems you don’t either, because you instantly comfort him with a smile and a step forward. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He didn’t intend to spend the night, free of charge no less, but he did. All of that including some embarrassing talk involving the seriousness of how this is not normal for him. 

Surprisingly, you believe him. 

After the shower, the mood had shifted into something that felt natural and less rehearsed. He wasn’t just some stripper you could call over with a downpayment of $600, he was Jake, a man trying to make ends meet in a city far too expensive even for you if you’re being honest. 

Jake, a man wanted by several women. You, on the other hand, feel the need to mend your lonely and stone-cold heart with him, however much that may cost. Not to fall in love, or to fill any type of voice. If anything, you want to be taken care of in specific ways, and you’d like to take care of him in turn. 

So, when he grimaced at your joke, saying that he would practically be your sugar baby and that you’d run off all of his other business out of need to continuously be fucked by him and him alone, you almost stopped pressing the matter.

Because you would run off all his clients solely for keeping him too busy with you to go to them. You would be paying him every time, making damn sure he’s well taken care of and financially stable. 

Jake did notice how you looked disappointed, quickly backtracking his grimace.

“Wait, you’re serious?” 

You nod shyly, blinking at him.

“It’s not like we have to sleep together every time, you won’t even have to dance for me anymore.” You argue, knowing that’s at least a half-lie. “All I ask is that you don’t fuck your other clients if you’re still seeing me, and intending to..you know–”

Jake nods happily, without question even.

“So, what happens if I’m horny and you’re not available then?”

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“Jerk off like a normal person?”

Fair enough.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

man, i forgot how lame this fic is but yknow what? good for me. jake is so fuckin’ fine fr I DON’T EVEN CAREEEEEEEEEEE. pls reblog and leave feedback on my work :D

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Twenty

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Tags: 18+ mdni, nurse reader, feelings of fear and panic, PTSD, references to domestic violence. Trauma, blood. Flashbacks. Dubious ethics and morality, dark content.

“Are ye comin’ inside?”

“I need a minute.” He needs more than a minute. He needs days, weeks. Needs to wind back the clock and slam it into the ground, over and over again, until the springs and hands and tiny numbers splinter into pieces.

Failure. He failed. They failed.

They failed you.

“Wait, go back.” The video pauses and rolls backward, all the way until Simon tells Kate to stop it when you step out of the elevator. “What’s in her hand?” 

“Dinnae,” Johnny’s nose is practically touching the screen. 

“The recording is pretty low quality; I’ve tried enhancing it with no luck.” Kate’s voice crackles through the speakers from the other side of the laptop, the other side of the world. This is the first time they’ve managed to get a hold of her in weeks, and even now, the connection is half static. 

“Looks like a piece of paper, or a picture?” Johnny murmurs, leaning back. 

“This is just before she bolts,” the playback continues, and they watch as you walk down the hall, bright smile fading when you reach the corner. “She’s here for a minute and then runs…” Simon is glued to the screen, forward on his haunches, and Johnny rubs his back, kneading his knuckles into that ever-present knot in his shoulder. He watches your head turn, your back stiffen, and Johnny sucks in a breath. 

Kate nods the confirmation. She’s already put the puzzle together. 

Graves.

You’re reacting to Graves, seeing Graves. Entire demeanor shifting, changing from their sweet, smart girl with newfound confidence, to a deer, shocked and startled, running from a scope. 

Graves.

It’s simple math. Plain as day. You take one look at where he’s come around the corner, running his mouth, chewing that fucking gum, and split. 

It’s Graves. 

And it all makes sense. 

“-you don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t understand. He’s chased me across the world, he always finds me, no matter what, no matter what I do”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.”

“He always finds me.” 

“He has resources. Has followed me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I’m originally from Texas.” 

Texas. Texas. Texas. 

There was a conversation, months ago, that slipped through Simon’s fingers. A wisp of a suspicion, one pushed away by doubt, by disbelief.  

Not possible. A coincidence. 

He was wrong, about being wrong. He was right, all along.

Johnny nearly flips the table before Simon urges him back down. “Where… where does she go after this?” 

“She gets the car,” Simon answers, timeline clicking into place, “she borrows that gits car, comes home, packs a bag, and runs.” Johnny’s hands are shaking, fingers white against his knees. 

They’ll kill him. He’ll paint the walls with Phillip’s blood. They’ll do what should have done in the first place. 

He should have protected you, should have seen it all clearly. Should have applied more pressure and made you crack, if only for your own safety. 

He failed. 

They failed. 

“That piece o’ shite, I’ll-“ 

“Kill him.” Simon finishes simply, and they exchange a look. A promise without words. Simon will shatter his skull between his palms if he has to. 

Johnny nods. The gears are already turning. Are they so different from a man who has stopped at nothing to drag you back to him? 

No. 

They'd burn the world for you, to protect you, to bring you home to them. 

Kate clears her throat. “There’s more.” More? “I was checking some records, looking at her last clock out, when the last paycheck was paid out and I pulled her personal information, her medical chart.” Kate’s tone is wary, hesitant, and Johnny straightens. 

“What is it?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line, unsure trepidation that’s so unlike Kate the hair on the back of Simon’s neck stands up. 

“Kate…” 

“She’s pregnant.” You could hear a pin drop. Johnny’s rage turns to panic, and an ocean of blood rushes in Simon’s ears. 

“She’s- she’s what?” 

“She’s pregnant. By now, she’s probably twenty weeks, maybe? I’m not sure. I don’t know much about those things, but her chart notes say both of them are… were in good health. Low risk.” 

“Twenty weeks,” Johnny echoes, faraway look in his eyes. 

A baby. You’re pregnant. 

Pregnant. Pregnant and alone, and scared. Running away.  

From them. 

Simon’s trying to wrap his head around it, but he can’t. The information doesn’t fit. It doesn’t make sense. 

“If she’s twenty weeks, then she’s been pregnant since before she left.” Johnny’s talking to himself at this point, because Simon can’t force his mouth to make words. “Why keep it a secret?” Kate is telling them something about index hits and cameras, but it all amounts to nothing after you board the train, and Simon still fails to make a sound. 

And then, she piles it on. 

“Graves is in the wind.” Simon’s heart stops like he’s been struck by lightning, electricity jolting him alive. 

“How?” 

“He went offline. No traceable activity in the last week or so. Last known location was Texas. After that, I’m not sure. Yet.”

‘He can’t be in the wind,” Johnny whisper shouts, all too aware of Penny upstairs, napping. “We need to know where he is. Now.” 

“I’m doing all I can. He has resources too, you know. A lot of them.” The screen goes black for a second, before she reappears, lips pressed into a grim line. “I have to go. I’ll keep you updated. Sorry guys.”

They can only nod. 

It’s clear as day, what happened now. How you saw them in the hallway, how you drew the conclusion, one that seemed so painfully obvious, connected the dots that appeared in your mind, stringing together bits and pieces until it all made sense.

He knows what will have to happen now. They both do. 

Simon presses his forehead to Johnny’s. “We’ll find her.” 

“An’ bring her home.” 

“No matter what.” 

The rest is left unsaid. 

You’re having a dream.

It’s a lovely one, more of a memory than anything else, but a dream, nonetheless.

“This still feels like a bad idea.” 

“Isnae, ye’ll do great bun. Jus’ the ‘hawk now.” You’ve already finished the sides of his head, which were easy enough, but using actual scissors to cut hair is well outside your wheelhouse. 

“What if I mess it up?” 

“It’s jus’ hair, pretty girl. It grows.” 

“How’s it going out here?” Simon leans out the sliding door, Penny in his arms, and you try to plead with him with wide, nervous eyes. He chuckles. “Looks good so far.” 

“See?” Johnny smiles, one of the big ones that stretches his whole face and makes your knees weak. Penny loves them too, and she claps her hands together, giggling. 

“But… I don’t… I’m going to mess it up.” Johnny stands, warm hands on your arms. 

“Ye could shave me bald and wouldnae mess it up, bun.” You nod, but the acid, noxious taste of worry is still there on your tongue. 

“I just… I…” you’re starting to shake a little, fingers squeezing together. He tugs you into his chest, kisses your temple. 

“Ye’re alright.” 

“I know.” You do know. You’re safe. They’d never hurt you, never betray your trust or even yell at you, but muscle memory doesn’t forget. “I know, I’m sorry.” 

“Ye dinnae have to be sorry.” 

“It’s okay, bunny.” Simon murmurs, but it’s not. 

Is this how you’ll spend your whole life? Afraid? Shaking? 

No. 

Not anymore. 

“If I ruin his hair… it’s not my fault.” Simon chuckles. 

“We’ll blame him.” You turn back to Johnny and put your hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath, surveying the mop of unruly brown strands, and he covers one of yours with his own. 

“It’s okay. If ye-“ 

“No, I can. I can do it.” You don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s just a hair cut, for crying out loud, but for some reason it feels like plunging into the deep end of a pool. “Okay,” you breathe, making the first snip. He nods encouragingly and you roll your shoulders. 

“See? Not so bad?” 

“Not so bad.” You cut again and again, trying to manage it all into a proper length, shaping as best you can. 

Each snip, something grows. Your hands tremble a little less, your jaw unclenches, lips flexing upward into your cheeks. You breathe deeper. 

When Johnny turns around, he doesn’t care about his hair, or the slightly uneven chunks, or the fresh clippings on his shirt. 

He cups your face, kissing you before pulling away to rub his thumb across your cheek. 

“There she is.” 

Spring rain. There’s nothing like it.

It washes away the gloom of winter. It’s the turning of a page, the spine of a brand-new book snapped open with a splintering crack. Cabin fever becomes walks in the park, lunches and coffees outside, hanging out on balconies and patios.

Dead things turned to soil now sprouting new life.

Like you, you guess.

You’ve been dead before. If someone looked really closely, they could see it in your eyes. The grey of decay, the separation of iris and pupil. Dead and brought back not quite right, every time. Sally, stitched together incorrectly, the wrong pieces of patchwork, poorly aligned.

Every time he ripped another piece of you away, you found a different one, one less like you, to put in its place.

Every time, until you weren’t you at all. Until you were a girl in a mirror. Until you were a ghost.

It makes sense that you don’t know yourself now, haven’t known for years. On the run, there’s not a lot of time to stop and consider things like that, those pieces. Coffee or tea? Chocolate cake or vanilla? Do you like snow? Do you like the beach? 

Do you like yourself? 

You could have had these answers, you think. Could have learned these things, if it hadn’t turned out the way it did. If Simon and Johnny hadn’t turned out to be a hydra, mouths open, waiting to devour you.

Sunbeam kicks. They nail you in the bladder, and you wince, rubbing over the crest of your belly. “You’re killing me, you know that?” You feel like you’ve been hit by a bus, every day. The aches and pains are never ending, your back and hips screaming by the end of a shift. You can’t sleep, the heartburn makes it hard to eat, you’re never comfortable.

The whole time, you curse them, Simon and Johnny.

Their fault, it’s their fault.

And yours too. 

But no matter how tired, how sore, how cranky you are, you can’t bring yourself to regret it, and in your dreams, it’s like all the bad, all the awful betrayal didn’t even happen. You dream of a family with them, Penny holding her little sibling, the five you together. It’s all been buried in your mind, too deep and nearly impossible to dig out. The visions of them, the longing, the good memories. You’re infested with them.

You didn’t want this. You wanted them, you wanted it all, and that might be the hardest thing about it. You weren’t given a choice, this decision was made for you, taken from you, just like almost everything else.

Except little sunbeam. You wanted them, chose them, will choose them, over and over, forever, keep them safe, make sure they know they’re loved.

No matter what. 

It’s the train, always the train.

Not the long rail train, the commuter train. The one that takes you to and from work, the one that’s sometimes-standing room only, though most people offer you their seat, which is surprisingly kind, compared to where you’re from.

Regardless, you feel the gaze on the train, and no matter how hard you scan, dissect, watch the people around you, there’s nothing. All three faces, three sets of eyes, three profiles, are never anywhere to be seen.

It’s overwhelming, unsettling. The stress of this prickling unease combined with the stress and physical strain of your job is taking its toll on both you and Sunbeam, as the midwife likes to remind you.

Take it easy, take some time off, try to relax. Stay hydrated, eat well.

Yeah… okay.

You rub your belly anxiously, tugging your hood farther over your head, trying to look around without being so obvious.

“Excuse me?” You jolt, startled by a man standing at your elbow, pointing to a vacant spot on a bench. “Would you like my seat?” His smile is subtle, matching an encouraging but not overly intrusive demeanor.

“Sure, thank you so much.” He nods, stepping to the side, into the space between the seat and the divider, close to the door. You try to swing your backpack in front of you, but it gets caught, and he snags it before it falls. “Sorry, thanks.”

“Of course, no problem.” You give him another glance. Really handsome, rich brown eyes you could get lost in. He’s got a baseball cap on, but it’s not pulled down over his face like your hood, he’s not trying to hide. “I’ll move when your stop comes up.”

“Okay, it’s not for a while so, no worries.” He might be kind, but he’s still a stranger, and you’re not going to divulge anything specific. Stranger danger. 

Not everyone is a threat but… 

“How far along are you?” You blink.

“Uh, about twenty-five weeks, give or take a few days.” He nods.

“My wife is due next week; it’s been a rollercoaster.”

“Yeah, it’s not the easiest.” You laugh, a little apprehensive, but also, a little glad, secretly, to have a casual conversation with someone. He sticks his hand out.

“I’m Kyle.” Your tongue rolls with the practiced name you’ve memorized, the one you’ve drilled into yourself over and over again. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” The next stop is announced, and he moves gracefully, reaching for his bag and tugging it over his shoulder, barely giving you a second glance.

“This is me, have a good day.”

“Thanks.” He doesn’t look over his shoulder at you when he’s getting off, doesn’t watch you through the window from the platform. He’s completely uninterested, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

The box is delivered on a Tuesday.

The Scottish government gives you almost everything you need. Clothes, thermometers, baby books, a changing mat, a mattress, a sheet, a blanket, the list goes on. The box even doubles as a bassinet.

You cry over it. Rifling through everything, tears drip down your cheeks and you bury your face in your hands. You didn’t get to share an ultrasound with anyone, or have a shower, or hold someone’s hand to your belly as sunbeam kicked, but there’s this. A box full of baby stuff, a box that says no matter how hard it is, you and sunbeam will have a good start. Even Sunbeam’s room is halfway sorted at this point, crib set up, dresser half stocked with clothes, collection of diapers and burp cloths and bottles starting to pile up in various places in their room. You’ve made it comfortable, slowly, mix matched furniture and all.

Every day feels like a year, but as each one passes, you slowly adjust to a new normal, a new life. Something you made, again, from scratch, for yourself, your survival.

And now, for Sunbeam.

One day, maybe it will feel like home.

You really need to stop buying so much crap at the store.

You practically have to drag your grocery loot into the elevator, bags overflowing with fruit, vegetables, cans of formula. Random cleaning products, stuff for baby proofing, a new candle.

Apparently, some call this nesting. You just call it annoying.

You lean against the wall and close your eyes for a moment, shifting your weight to alleviate the pressure on your spine.

Thirty weeks.

Ten weeks left.

Ten weeks left. It’s wild to even think about, to even say to yourself, or out loud. You’re going to be a mom in ten weeks. Going to have a whole human depending on you for every single thing, in ten weeks.

You’ll be alone, with a newborn, in ten weeks.

Alone.

It still aches. Stings. Salt in the wound-

Lit end of a cigarette against your skin.

You instinctively cup your belly, thumb rubbing over where one of your burn scars has been stretched by Sunbeam, and shiver.

You’re fine. You’re safe. Get it together.

“We’re home!” You announce to no one, no one except Gus the goldfish who’s swimming circles around his bowl. You got him two weeks ago on an impulse, following a pathetic, sad desire all the way to the pet store.

It’d be nice to have something to come home to. 

You tap a few flakes into the water and watch him gobble them up, oddly soothed by his presence in the flat.

This is how far you’ve fallen. Taking comfort in a damn goldfish.

You blow out a breath and fall onto the couch, swinging your legs up onto the cushions, dragging the pillows under your ankles, or what used to be your ankles. They’re more like overstuffed sausages now, tops of your sneakers cutting into your skin. Every chance you get, you’re finding places to sit at work, caught yourself leaning most of your weight on your patient’s beds, more than once. Thankfully, your coworkers are overwhelmingly understanding.

And when you come home, you do this. Collapse on the couch. Talk to a goldfish, or Sunbeam, or both.

The oddest trio: Mom, baby, goldfish.

You manage to limit yourself to three bites of ice cream before putting the carton away in the freezer. You’re supposed to be watching your sugar intake, apparently, not because you’re at risk for gestational diabetes, but because Sunbeam is already projected to be on the bigger side.

You look mournfully at container, spoon still in hand.

One more. What’s it going to hurt? One more bite isn’t going to turn Sunbeam into a giant, it’s-

Knuckles rap against your door.

Your blood goes cold, colder than ice, and you instinctively find the floor, crouching by the fridge, using it to shield yourself, keeping away from the door’s direct line of sight.

The knocking gets louder.

Someone’s saying something on the other side of the door, but you can’t hear it over the buzzing, beeping sound in your ears.

How. 

How? How did it happen so fast? Where did you fuck up? 

The fear you once felt for yourself pales in comparison to the true fear you feel now. You’re supposed to protect Sunbeam, supposed to keep them safe.

You’re supposed to be a mom. 

A sob claws its way out, and you clap your palm over your mouth, agony squeezing your heart, panic clutching your throat in a vise, choking off your air, throttling you until you’re gasping.

You should run, should sprint into the bedroom and grab the gun from under your mattress, should start crawling out the window to the fire escape.

You should do these things, but instead, you’re trapped, immobile, watching with horror as the deadbolt turns horizontal, sliding the lock free with a bloodcurdling click.

Your baby. You were supposed to keep your baby safe. 

You failed. 

You stand, so unsteady you have to support your weight by leaning against the counter. The only thing in here are kitchen knives, and you rip two from the block, one hiding behind your back, the other brandished in front of your body like a sword.

You’re going to die. 

But not without a fight. 

Tears wet your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you choke, sliding a hand over little Sunbeam, “I’m so- so sorry.”

The creak of the door handle is unmistakable, a metal whine scraping against the frame. You close your eyes.

“Bunny.”

Your heart stops.

The men you thought love you are standing just inside your kitchen, the sight of them turning your stomach, their eyes flicking between you and the shiny, sharp knife in your hand.

Johnny inches forward, his voice a low, gentle murmur, one that cracks your heart. “It’s okay pretty girl, we’re here to take ye home.”

“Get away from me.” The knife is practically rattling in your hand.

"It's alright. We’d never hurt ye, either of ye. We know what ye saw and-“

“N-no,” you sob, voice cracking, shoulders shaking, “don’t come near me.”

“Put that down, sweet girl, it’s alright.” Simon edges around the counter, caution and wary weighing his steps. They’re supposed to be muffled you think, soft, but they ring so loud.

“Stop!”

“Just let us explain, give us a minute-“

“I saw you! I saw you w-with him.” Your vision is blurred by tears, and you look down at your belly, desperate. “Just let us go, please. Don’t- don’t let him-“

“Listen to me, sweetheart. We have nothing to do with Phillip.” His name makes your flinch, and you inch backwards.

“You know him.”

“We do. He tried to kill us, betrayed us, on a mission. Nearly succeeded with Johnny.” The words conflict, mash together into a scramble you don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense.

More lies. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know, I know you don’t. I wouldn’t if I was in your position either, but we’re telling the truth.” You shake your head.

“No. You’re just… you’re just trying to trick me.”

“We’re not,” Johnny murmurs, “We’ve always told ye the truth, bun. And we’d never hurt ye.” He steps forward. It’s too close, way too close, and you pivot, both knives still clutched in your hands.

“Put them down.” Simon instructs, a little bit of steel in his voice now. He can obviously see the one behind your back, and your heart starts to sink.

There’s no way out. You should have run when you had the chance. 

Stupid.

The girl in the mirror stays silent. She says nothing.

For all you know, she’s dead already. Killing blow dealt by your own hand.

You think about Sunbeam, all warm and safe, protected from the world, and despair swells in your chest, an entire ocean beneath your feet, waiting to swallow you up, drag you down and drown you.

“Now, sweetheart. We don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You laugh. It’s a sickly, nervous thing, too tinny and high pitched.

You’re falling apart. You’re not a fighter, you’re a runner, shot lame in a race rigged against you from the beginning. They’re closing in, wolves stalking the bleeding lamb between them, predators about to fall on prey.

 “Don’t,” whisper, fingers tightening around the knife in front of your body, unable to hold it steady through the trembling.

“Bunny, listen to us, please.” Johnny is reaching and you get trapped in his gaze, spiraling into the swirl of misery and fear, mirroring your own. “I love ye, we love ye. Ye belong with us, at home, where we can keep ye safe.” You slam your eyes shut, trying to block him out. “I’ve loved ye since the day I opened m’eyes and saw ye leaning over the bed. We’d never hurt ye, we jus’ want to take ye home.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Simon moves. One powerful, huge step, and he’s on you, grabbing your arm, applying pressure to your knuckles to release the knife.

You scream. It’s instinct. Everything shuts down, narrowing down to one objective.

Run.

“Johnny,” he half shouts over your keening, holding gentle pressure against your arm as you try to rip yourself free. “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” You thrash, trying to twist out of his grip, shoulder shrieking in pain, and he goes with your momentum, providing slack so there’s no tension in your arm. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself sweetheart, you’re okay.”

You’re not. 

You’re not okay. You’ll never be okay. 

The walls close in, and it all becomes so clear. Your future, what will happen if they take you, if you leave here with them.

They’ll take Sunbeam. They’ll turn you over to Phillip, throw you out like trash, and you’ll die.

Are you going to let it happen, just like you let everything else? Are you going to roll over? Let it all be stolen, again and again? 

No. 

Simon reaches for the other knife and you swing it wide, slicing through the air until the blade meets flesh.

He hisses. Blood spills, drips down the handle, coats your fingers, and you stand there, frozen, gobsmacked.

Did you- 

Did you just- 

“Johnny,” he barks, but it barely registers, you’re too transfixed by the blood, hypnotized by it, too entranced to even register Johnny at your side, too stunned to see what’s in his hand.

A needle. 

He whispers your name, cradles your face-

And then everything goes black.

[ladyorlandodream]

One of my nephews has been diagnosed with ADD, but I have to say: YES, TO EVERYTHING IN THE POST ABOVE!

His mother, my stepsister, is having a hard time, but she’s relieved to finally have a diagnosis so she can support him in the right way and help him thrive

They’re now at the point where his mind is elsewhere (also because teen period), and he doesn’t want any reminders. I stayed with them for 10 days, and the phrase “leave important things where you can see them” hits hard for us—he remembers only half of what he needs...with his twin sister super frustrated because she has to remember things for two (again she is also very supportive, but, you know, brothers and sisters classic relationships)

I tried giving him some advice. I don’t have ADD or ADHD, but I’ve been getting information from Tumblr and other pages. The main challenge is that he’s a teenager—so it’s not the best time for him to take suggestions because he won't listen (same as his sister btw)

I’m just grateful that my sister, despite being extremely exhausted, is handling everything with a lot of love and does her best to read and learn as much as possible. She also told me that she is scared about how other people will treat him, but at least he has all of his family supporting, loving and encouraging him in all the activities he does and choices he makes

If anyone has suggestions on how to support a teenager with ADD, I’m all ears—I want to be more prepared the next time I see him

this is your gentle reminder to stop fighting against your adhd and instead structure your life around it

buy a pack of chapsticks and put one in the pocket of all of your coats and jackets because you always forget to bring one and chapped lips is sensory hell

leave important things where you can see them. if they go in a box or a drawer you will forget they exist

put any appointments or deadlines in your phone calendar As Soon As you get them. set a reminder for a week before, a day before, an hour before, as many as you need as often as you need them.

when that little voice in your head says "i dont need to write that down, ill remember it" that is the devil talking!!! write it down anyway!!

plan for down time. have a few hours at the end of every day to just do fun stuff like engage in your hyperfixations. even if you didnt get all of your work done that day, have the rest anyway. you probably spent the whole day beating yourself up for not doing what you Should be doing, so you still need the break.

if you never eat vegetables because its too much effort to chop and cook them, get the frozen or canned shit. it doesnt go off for ages and you just have to microwave it. theres no point buying fresh vegetables if they just keep going off and being left to rot in the bottom of your fridge

if you struggle to decide what to have for dinner every day, take the decision out of it. choose a set of meals and eat those on rotation until you get sick of them, then choose some new ones and do it again.

its not stupid if it works! our brains literally have a chemical deficiency. you are allowed to accommodate yourself. go forth and stop making your life more difficult than it has to be because "this shouldn't be this hard". it is hard, so make it easier.

[kurohe]

Things you can do to actively participate in the revolution

Here's the list !

I know some of those will look really silly, i promise they are not. And obviously, this is not a checklist, you don't have to do everything. But they're steps that you can absolutely take if you wish to, and they WILL help.

(under the cut !)

1) Let's start off with a very easy one you can do right now: stop using Chrome. It's a google owned browser, and it sents all of your data towards it. Mozilla is a very good replacement, but almost anything will do, really. This may sound a little dumb, but you are revolting against capitalism as a whole, and this is a good first step !

2) Start stealing things from supermarkets and malls. I am not kidding. Little things, that aren't really monitored: a can of food, a lighter, a pair of socks. Condiments are particularly easy to hide in bags or pockets. Steal hygiene products, steal food.

Remember that you should have access to those for free, and you don't because a few rich guys don't want you to.

Additional tip: airports and train station stores are very easy to steal from, because they're so busy. But don't put yourself in danger. Check beforehand if they check bags at checkout, look out for employees that might notice what you're doing. Don't be reckless.

3) In the same line, if you see someone stealing anything from a big store, no you didn't.

4) I know a lot of people are scared of disrespecting rules. By fear of being caught, or by guilt. My advice is: start disrespecting stupid, meaningless rules. I don't have specific exemples, but you'll encounter them and wonder why you're doing that. Stop doing it. This will train you to be able to disobey autority way easier.

5) Put stickers everywhere. If you already have them, go ham. Especially on public property (lamposts are amazing). If you don't, buy them from artists or independant stores, not big brands. If you cannot afford them, remember that you can simply write stuff on an A4 paper and plaster it to walls. Or even post its !

6) Carry a sharpie with you at all time, the big black ones. If you see propaganda, scribble it out. Keep a look out for terfs stickers, maga posters, etc. Also good for getting rid of transphobic and sexist stuff written on public restroom stalls !

7) Buy locally. This means going to the market or small stores, and thrifting your clothes. If you can't for money or accessibility reasons, try trading with your friends, family and neighbours. Get communication going in your circles, and you'll realise there are a lot of things that you can simply trade with or buy from people around you. Like a jar of jam against some eggs, or a pair of socks for a t-shirt you don't wear anymore !

8) Learn how to sew. I know, that sounds dumb ! But i promise you, not only will it be amazing to trade with other people ("i'll sew back ur shirt and in exchange, you give me a can of peaches !"), corporations also haaaate when you know how to fix your clothes. Because they want you to buy more. You'll spend a lot less money if you know how to fix em

9) If you have the space and the money, grow your own food, and share it or sell it around you. Be careful, some assholes will call the FDA on you. Do that with people you trust.

Additional tip: growing vegetables and fruits can be a real nightmare. You can absolutely start by just growing some basil or mint :)

10) Organise. Join leftist groups online, even if it's just to see what's being said, you don't even need to interact. Follow creators, repost and share their content. By doing that, you'll stay informed on group movements like strikes, protests and boycotts, which you can then participate in. It's very important you're connected to other ppl and the movements that are started !

11) Unionize. I'm very sorry I don't know the exact way unions work in the US, but if you can, join one. They will help you in times of needs, especially if you're a student or a worker. If you're not sure how to do that, absolutely ask around to people you know are very active politically, around you or online. People will help.

12) Stay. Informed. Follow independant papers and news outlet. If you can afford it, give them a dollar or two. They are fighting everyday for access to unbiased information for all, and sadly, their independance means that they rely almost entirely on donations and people simply engaging with what they put out.

If you can't access those: do not get your news from TV. Ever. Or anywhere else that has been bought by the far right. Sadly, the majority of TV channels are just the worst.

And, most importantly: fact check. All of the time.

13) Share that information. Talk to those you trust and who are ready to listen to you, and tell them about what's happening. Get angry with them. Revolution stems from people coming together and realising that they're being used and profited off of. Share videos and posts relating to politics, especially informative videos.

14) Go to protests ! If you've never been, i know it can be scary. But you can stay in the middle (don't go all the way to the front, that's where stuff can get heated) and scream and walk with everyone else. You'll meet people who, like you, want things to change. Capitalism wants you to stay as unconnected to others as possible, and that's a great way to fight that.

Sometimes, there are sites that have a planning for all protests happening in a city. Look up if one exists for yours

15) Create and strenghten community. I know i really struggled with this one, because it's so vague. But here's a few places you can start:

-Go and introduce yourself to your neighbours, if you deem it safe. Give them a little gift if you can afford it, like a pack of pasta.

-Make new friends, even if they aren't deep friendships. You need connections. Online or irl, both are fine- don't stay isolated.

-If you already have community, go check on them right now. Ask your friends how they're doing, and if they need anything- ask how they're being impacted by what's happening right now politically.

16) Look for ways to fuck over the institutions in easy ways. One example that went around tumblr a lot is letting dandelions grow in your backyard, because landlords fucking hate it. If you work in retail or fast food, cheat. Accidentally forget to scan the diapers. Put in 7 nuggets instead of 6.

17) Engage in art. MAKE art. Music, shitty paint drawings, craft, anything as long as you're being creative. Share it. If you feel like you can't do that, then support artists. Make a point to look up cool illustrations, and new music. Go to the cinema.

If you're an artist currently in an underpaid office job, please, by the love of god, be creative during office hours. You're underpaid, they do not deserve your full time and attention. Take 30 minutes to write that snippet you've been thinking about.

(and actually, if you're underpaid at all: do the minimum required. So that you can't be fired, but that's it. Any more effort is not worth it. Companies will never be thankful for what you do.)

18) Look up books that your state banned, and go read them. You can get them secondhand, or as pdfs online. (if anyone needs ressources, i will glady look for and share them.)

And, actually, read books in general if you can. Yes, fanfics count !

19) Seek education. There's a lot of youtube channels out there talking about educational subjects in a fun way. Some things the rich assholes who run the country specifically don't want you to learn more about are: biology, history and archeology, social and economic sciences. GO LEARN ABOUT THOSE.

The people in power don't want you to be educated. It's why they eviscerated the education system.

20) PIRATE. I cannot stress this enough, anything you can pirate (that isn't from small, indie creators, except if you absolutely can't afford it) do it. Download music illegally, torrent movies and games. If you want access to academical studies and papers, some writers will give them to you for free if you email them about it. There are also ways to go around paywalls.

21) Don't fall for the traps of "progressive brands". Lately, i've seen a lot of praise for Ben and Jerry's for openly supporting lgbtq rights and being globally anti-trump. They are still a brand. Avoid buying from any big names when you can. That being said, if you have to, check beforehand which ones and what their history is. Some are more evil than others.

Additional tip: a lot of brands you see in stores are actually owned by bigger brands. One prime example of this is Nestle, who are fucking evil, but they own a shitload of other big names. Be careful what you buy.

22) I hate to say this, but be prepared to defend yourself. Revolutions are never peaceful. You will get in danger. If you can, get in ok physical shape. If you can't, buy a gun. (Remember Alabama has a 99% acceptation rate, you can get one in 10 minutes.) I hate firearms, but the enemy will have them too. Arm yourself.

If none of those are available options to you, please, make sure you have someone around you that will be able to protect you, or a place where you can be safe. Whether you are disabled, a minor, or anything else. Don't put yourself in more danger than is necessary.

23) Last but not least, be kind. When someone cuts off a woman speaking, interrupt and give her the floor back. Shame those who think it's right to say bigoted shit in public. Listen to those around you. If you can't act, then remember to always have empathy for the homeless, for drug users, for immigrants. Understand they are people just like you. You are not immune to propaganda and prejudice, no matter who you are. Always question yourself and your biases.

(if you've read this far, please repost. We need this to reach as many people as possible)

I want to remind you that you're not alone. I know things seem hopeless, but the simple fact that you're reading this is proof it's not. I don't live in the US, but i'm supporting you as best i can from where i am, and sending you strenght.

If you have any questions, do ask away. I'll end on this image that's very dear to me:

[nayaesworld]

My favorite Dork

Terry Richmond x Black!Fem reader

Part 2

__

__

“Who that right there?” Your crossed eyes tried hard to focus on his extended finger as it pointed towards the tv screen. Head filled with little to no thoughts or answers that could save you from his incessant pounding into your pussy. If he could just ease up a little then maybe just maybe you could gargle out a answer, fuck it it it was the wrong one..you didn’t care.

Your eyes finally steadied enough for you to focus on the tall,pale, blonde animated character. A few names filtering through your pretty little head as he slowed his strokes enough for your toes to uncross and you became confident in your answer…perhaps too confident.

“Trevor..that’s Trevor” you breathe out quickly, hoping to impress him with your listening skills.

“Aww Peaches baby.. really wanted you to be right and prove me wrong. Guess you weren’t listening as well as I thought you were.” A faux pout came across his face and a mischievous glint in his eyes made your stomach flip.

“You know what happens to sluts that don’t listen…the ones that don’t retain information they were told to?” His heavy hand smacked your cheek just enough for your heavy eyes to widen. Your face heating up from the contact and your rising arousal.

Your shaking hands grip his arms as you shake underneath him, body preparing to release a violent gush of water onto him. You craved to be manhandled and flung about his spacious bed like a lifeless sex doll. To hell with anime…animation..animators. Fuck em all.

“Ouuu Peaches I felt that, give it to me. Because when you do we’re starting from the beginning..can’t have my baby out here not knowing her material, by the time I’m done with your sexy ass you’ll be speaking fluent Japanese.” Pillow soft thighs squeezed tight around his midsection and your pussy came like a geyser, pent up energy in the form of his favorite liquid.

“Bubby please.. I’m sorry I’ll be better just please..my pussy can’t take it.”

“You sure..looks like she can take it to me. Deep pussy swallowing up my dick just fine. My sweet peaches and her sweet pussy.” He pecked your forehead, quickly rubbing the back of your thighs.

“On your knees..I don’t want you to miss one second since you can’t seem to remember the names of characters I’ve been repeating for the last 40 minutes.”

Your sore limbs slowly but surely allowed your body to be molded into the newest position, your soft belly and breast resting on the cool sheets beneath you with your ass tooted up as high as he could get it. Playful slaps to your ass had you swallowing your spit. You wanted—needed that Sephora trip and your chances of winning looked slim.

“Ass so perfect and fat it belongs on an Anime..like look at this shit. I want this everyday..and everytime you deny me and act like you can’t take this dick, this pussy will pay the price for it.” A series of slaps to your pussy lips had you drooling, the slight sting coaxing forward more sticky liquid from you.

“Yesss bubby I wanna be better…just please fuck me now.” You sucked your thumb and sighed in content, eyes wet and waiting.

The opening title to Castlevania played loudly in the background as your cheeks bounced against his pelvis. He played with and gripped the flesh until you begged for more, then filled you to the hilt with his thick dick. The wet queefs battling against the volume of the tv as the animated characters battles against cruel priests and demons. In a way y’all were two of the same. You currently battled a hefty dick attached to a man with a sickening face card and a stroke that had you thinking sitting out for 9 months wasn’t too bad.

“Wanna try again Peaches…you want bubby to ease up on you hmm, take it easy on my princess?” He stroked the soft hairs at the nape of your neck almost putting you into a coma.

But you were going out like a bitch. And mama didn’t raise no punk, it was now or never. You had to get the next one right, a Sephora trip depended on it. And by the time he breathed out the next question to you like a freaky professor, you had the right answer plus a little more to throw him off his high horse. You made the mistake of calling the tall raven haired vampire fine and that earned you a pinch to your clit.

You fucked back onto him, shadows of your eager ass throwing playing out on the walls. He moaned and whimpered softly behind you, dick being squeezed and squished into your soaking pussy. You wanted a pretty, white creampie to decorate your pretty brown skin. You felt his hot breath on the back of your neck and his chest slick with perspiration as the effects of solid good pussy broke him down layer by layer.

You felt the sharp pain of his nails digging into your hips. The falter of his weakening strokes, the exasperated breaths…it all made you feel so empowered— so in charge. You could brag for days and shout out this victory from the fucking roof tops..who was scared of dick now?

“Just cum already…you know it’s a losing battle Bubby. Just succumb, you know you wanna paint this fat kitty…so just do it.” Hot warm spurts of cum littered your backside and trickled down to mingle with your own release. Satisfied sighs leaving both of your mouths and you were greedy to touch your lips to his again…to indulge in a kiss with your handsome faced loser.

Strong hands soothed your tense muscles and massaged your sore limbs back into their rightful place. A lone finger running along his abdomen, observing the purpling hickies you had sucked onto his skin over the course of the last hour and a half.

“Not gonna rub it in my face peaches…you got good sportsmanship all of a sudden?” His hands worked deeply into the balls of your feet, ocean eyes focusing on your pretty face.

“Mm would you prefer me to sweetface? You know I’d rather not do you dirty…I have something else in mind for you.” He threw you a suspicious glance and you simply lifted your pointer and middle fingers into a heart. He didn’t need to know about your extra terms and conditions to winning.

__

$216 dollars, two hefty bags of skincare,makeup, and perfumes. You cheesed and wiggled in the passenger seat back to Terry's place, you had run through Sephora like a kid in a candy store. No aisle or product was left untouched by you, you picked up your everyday items and a whole lot of new ones. Crossing them off of your long list of TikTok recommendations to try.

Now you had Terry seated in a chair, makeup products sprawled out in front of you. He sat arms folded as he looked up at you expectantly. Convincing him to sit here and be a test dummy for your new products took a lot of begging and the promise of a new pair of gaming headphones—though you didn’t care for all the yelling and hollering he did on that damn game.

“So you actually don’t need to fill yours in because they're naturally thick and bushy…but a little brow gel could really clean up these caterpillars.” Your thumb rested against his temple as you brushed his brow hair into a near perfect arch, the brow gel being just strong enough to handle his coarse hairs.

He was eager as ever to hop into the mirror and see what magic you had worked, a small smile forming on his lips before he caught your eyes and let it drop. You rolled your eyes and quickly pushed him back into his seat, popping open a brand new case of eye shadow you would be perfect for the spring. He sighed and held his head still per your request and shut his eyes. You let the small makeup brush dance softly over his closed lids, careful not to press too hard on the small blue veins on his lid.

“See the blue eyeshadow brings out your eyes Bubby…my handsome bestie. Baddest nigga I know.” The two of you shared hearty laughs before he pulled you into his lap.

“You done treating me like a lab rat yet..I’m due for a nap.” You pecked his juicy lips before pulling one more product into your hands. He pulled his head out of your grasp at the first glance of the shiny new tube of lipgloss.

“That's the one you had on earlier when you came..I like the way it tasted.” You nodded and took that info into your head or the future.

Clean uniformed brows, blue eyeshadow, and glossy plump lips decorated his beautifully sculpted face. He let you get a few pictures in before him stood to his full height and threw a strong arm around your waist.

“I love you yeah girl..my gorgeous, sexy, smart Peaches. You’re the bestest friend a person could ask for..but I don’t want to be friends with you anymore.”

Your face frowned up quickly and you tried to pull out of his grip. What the fuck was he talking about honestly, he had you fucked up and you would knock sense into his ass, buff or not.

“Wait..wait let me finish hot head. I don’t want to be friends with you anymore because I’m more interested in being your man..if you’ll let me.”

Oh? And this definitely wasn’t where you thought he was taking this, but you liked it. Loved it in fact. Tall, handsome, incredibly smart and nerdy, intellectual… you could go on. He made you feel safe and heard, saved you from bullies when the two of you were just kids, built you up so no one could ever deny you again…and above all else he loved you.

“You want me..in that way?” Just a little reassurance..just to hear him say it once more..just to make sure he wasn’t pranking you like the boys did when you were a teen.

“I want you in every way you’ll let me have you. I’ve stood by for too long watching unfit men attempt to snub out your light..you deserve to shine and be soft. Let me do that for you y/n.” You threw your arms around his neck, hot tears streaming down your face. You deserved this, trusted this..wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.

“You’re lucky you’re cute and convincing. I want this with you, I trust you to keep your word and do right by me because you've always done so.”

“I’ll do more than keep my word. I’ll show you how a real man courts a woman..show you why there’s nobody better than you out there for me. I love you Peaches.”

“Love you more nerd.”

__

@becauseimswagman1 @ranikyani @blyffe @23jammy @keehendrixx @ovohanna24 @venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @hotgrlcece @henneseyhoe @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @blackmoonchilee @tvchi @blackerthings @honeys-archives @luvrsluxe

[des2dream]

"Wait....mirrors were made with silver? Wouldn't that make a lot of people rich back in the day? What if I had silver on me right now? How old are you? Were you around during the 1950s? Can you turn into a bat? Please tell me you can turn into a bat! Wait, aren't bats blind? How can you hypnotize me if you're blind?"

"Ugh! Gods! What are they teaching you in these modern day schoolhouses? You'd think they'd be giving you accurate information in this day and age!"

"Can garlic kill you?"

"NO! That's just a bloody myth!"

"Is it true that you have this ongoing rivalry with vampires?"

"I wouldn't say 'rivalry'. Our clans don't interact that much."

"Do you sparkle in the sunlight or in the moonlight?"

"Uh...."

"Are there any more of you? Have you come to suck the blood out of every human on Earth, but you're also fighting with a beautiful vampire slayer who vows to save the world?"

"What?"

"Are you a high school student? Do you go to school with other vampires, skeletons, werewolves, ghosts, mummies, and gargoyles, but you wear fashionable outfits so good it'll make boring ordinary wardrobes cry?"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're going on about!"

"Oh!...OH!....I know why you're here! But....Maybe....I shouldn't say! I wouldn't want to spoil your plans."

"No, please. Tell me. I can't wait to see how you figure me out."

"You sly devil! You're here for a lover, aren't you? You were just minding you own business looking for your next victim until you saw me and suddenly, you feel this strange feeling you've never felt since....umm...since you last felt love. So you came to my window here to claim me all for yourself! I'm very flattered, but I already have a whole line of suitors asking for me so maybe I'll consider if you behave. Then again, a human dating a vampire is pretty spicy..."

"My dear, you couldn't be more wrong even if you tried."

"Really? Jeez! Twilight, Monster High, and Buffy The Vampire Slayer made it sound more interesting."

"Do I need to know what any of those are or what they even mean?"

"Hmm. I guess I'm not the only one who needs to be educated in this day and age."

"You're a vampire?! Why can I see you in the mirror then?!" "You idiot, mirrors haven't been using silver since the 1950s!!"

[shomatoriashi]

01/20/25; 07:11pm

vi(olet) x fem.reader | modern au

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

alternate title: the five times you realized she has always loved you.

you couldn’t find the right term to describe your relationship with violet.

from an outsider’s perspective, they would simply label you as two girls who were the best of friends. sure, there were times where vi got a little too overprotective when it came to shielding you from your shitty exes-

but that’s what friends were supposed to do, right?

yet deep down, there was something nagging at the back of your mind. when you found out dirk was cheating on you, vi had made it her personal mission to beat the ever living shit out of him before proceeding to erase his contact information from your phone. she had no intention of telling you what she had done, but seeing dirk kneeling in front of your apartment door the very next day while begging you to keep vi away from him was more than enough proof that your best friend had willingly defended you.

the memory of it all was enough to cause a surge of heat to course through you. as you look down at your coffee, you couldn’t help but search through your memories, thinking back on specific moments where vi seemed to be there for you when you needed her the most…

i. becoming your roommate to help with paying the rent.

when you texted vi, telling her about the emergency you were facing the moment your roommate moved out, she had appeared at your place in just a few minutes. as evident from the sweat that ran down her forehead, it was clear that she had rushed over to you during your time of need.

with an apologetic expression on your face, you offer her a bottle of water and sit next to her on the couch. “any idea why your roomie moved?”

“she had a new job offer, and it’s located an hour away. i would have been more okay with the move had she at least paid her half of the rent for this month.” you sigh while twirling at the ends of your hair, listening to vi take a swig of her bottle before telling you, “how about i move in with you instead?”

vi’s casual question makes you do a double take, meeting her gaze with your wide eyes, “but… aren’t you living with your sister right now?”

she shrugs while taking another drink, “we’ve both got steady incomes, and she can take care of herself. in fact, i have a feeling she’s counting down the days where she can have the place all to herself.”

“b-but-“

setting aside the now emptied bottle of water, vi places a fingertip against your lips, “hush, cupcake. let me do this for you so you don’t have to worry about a damn thing. i’ll be completely moved in by next week, and you don’t have to worry about running behind on rent.”

a surge of hope courses through you, and you felt each and every one of your worries melt away amidst vi’s grin. unable to hold back your joy any longer, you toss your arms around her neck, nuzzling against her soft, magenta locks of hair, “oh vi, you’re the best! i love you so much!”

you felt the way your best friend suddenly stiffens from within your embrace, causing you to furrow your eyebrows slightly before relaxing when vi lets out an exhale.

“i love you, too.”

you wouldn’t realize the depths of her response until much later.

ii. staying by your side when you suffered from a bad fever.

there was something wrong with you.

your body felt too hot-

your stomach too nauseated as you could barely hold down the sips of water you had taken throughout the night. as you lay shivering and aching in bed, you had barely gotten a wink of sleep when night slowly morphs into the morning.

vi was already active, hearing her footsteps around the kitchen as she brewed her morning coffee. along with the coffee came the sounds of sizzling bacon as the scents of vi cooking breakfast made your stomach churn in response. you swallow thickly, trying to fight back the urge to vomit as you remain curled up in bed.

after what felt like an eternity, you heard gentle knocks coming from your door before vi reveals herself. “hey sleepyhead, it’s time to get up.”

you only manage a whimper in response, causing vi to take quick strides into your room. tossing back your comforter, she sees you huddled up in a fetal position, your face appearing damp with sweat as your bleary eyes met with her gaze.

she lets out a gasp of your name, kneeling beside you on your bed, “damn, you’re burning up with a fever. hang on-“

yet you stop her from leaving, taking comfort in her presence and the scent of her shampoo (the scent of lavender), “don’t leave… need… you…”

her blue eyes were filled with uncertainty, brimming with concern, yet you didn’t relent. “please… i couldn’t sleep last night because… i felt so shitty… and you feel so warm.”

in the end, she caves in to your exhausted demands, laying down next to you while wrapping her arms around your waist. she allows you to hide your face within the curve of her neck, basking in your soft breaths while running a hand through your damp hair, “you need to take some medicine… and eat something, you know that right.”

you hum, burying your face against her shoulder, “hmph… later… sleep… first…”

and with you clinging to her, you were blissfully unaware of how much her heart was racing from your close proximity.

iii. spending late nights with you during your days off.

when you told vi how you were eager to spend your day off with her, your best friend joins you in your happiness. with your favorite takeout already ordered, you settle back on the couch with her, trading the boxes of food with her with little regard to sharing your utensils with her.

with a series of your favorite movies playing on the screen, you bask in the way vi makes jokes with each scene, earning a series of giggles from you in between your bites of food. as the hours ticked by, you cuddle next to vi on the couch, sharing your blanket with her while basking in her warmth.

while you sit next to her, you felt a strange warmth within your chest, your attention slowly waning from the movie that was playing as you found yourself sneaking glances at her.

her blue eyes were focused on the screen, and you allowed your gaze to trace at the fullness of her lips while admiring the freckles that dotted against her cheeks along with the tattoo of her name. your hand itched with the sudden urge to reach out and touch her-

to frame at her face while your lips descended upon her in a sweet kiss-

yet you quickly banish those intrusive thoughts, slightly moving away from her on the couch. you cough the moment vi looked back at you, seeing her eyebrows raised in question at your sudden shift.

but instead of calling you out on it, vi places an arm around your shoulder, pulling you back to her before returning her gaze toward the screen.

she never once removed her hand from your shoulder for the rest of the night.

iv. buying a gorgeous necklace for your birthday.

after gorging yourself on a delicious dinner and some cake, vi pours you a glass of your favorite champagne as you both celebrated another year well spent.

“you’re finally twenty two, how are you feeling, cupcake?”

you roll your eyes at her nickname for you, taking sips of your champagne with a smile on your face. “i can’t complain. but i gotta say, it’s much better to share my special day with my bestie.”

a flash of something was seen in violet’s eyes, yet just as soon as it appears, it was replaced with a carefree expression. vi smirks at you, running a hand through her hair while rolling her eyes, “well, i can’t complain about spending the day with you, either.”

she tells you with a hum before setting her champagne glass off to the side. while you distracted yourself with finishing off your champagne, you were unaware of how violet had one more surprise for you.

you met her gaze when she calls your name, and you face forward to see a neatly wrapped present settled within the palm of her hand. “wha- vi, you didn’t need to get anything for me.”

“i know, but i wanted to.” she tells you with a shrug, handing you the present. your throat clogs up with emotion as you carefully tore open the gold wrapping, unraveling the silver ribbon as you revealed a velvet box. opening the box, you gasp at the sight of the gorgeously crafted necklace settled within the cushion.

it’s rose gold chain held a pendent that was of a rose made entirely of a pink tourmaline gemstone. the brilliant hue reminds you of violet’s startling hair as your hands trembled while picking it up. you were at a loss for words when you silently held the necklace out to vi, beckoning her to help you put it on.

with a tiny smile gracing her features, she takes the necklace and scoots closer to you on the couch. your back was facing her, and you remain still when she moves your hair away. you sensed a bit of hesitancy from her, only to stiffen slightly at the sensation of something soft pressing against the back of your neck.

yet as quickly as the sensation appeared, it was gone within an instant, replaced with the feeling of a slender chain surrounding your neck before being clasped into place.

“happy birthday.” you felt vi whisper within your ear, setting your heart aflame as you found yourself slowly falling for your best friend…

{ … }

you gasp when you felt vi ruffling at your hair, breaking you out of your reveries as she steps into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “hey, what are you spacing out for?”

you swallow thickly, staring at vi and how she was dressed in a sports bra with a loose pair of sweats. your heart begins to pound at the mere sight of her, and your hands now ached with a desire to run through her hair as she kissed you senseless-

“i love you.” you suddenly blurt out to her without meaning to, feeling the heat against your cheeks when she tilts her head back at you. taking a sip of her coffee, vi sits across from you while giving you a grin. “i love you, too.”

“n-no, that’s not it. i-“ you were trembling now, “i mean i love you, what i feel for you is something more than mere friendship. a-and i realize that you’ve always loved me, too.”

vi’s true blue eyes go wide for a brief moment before she shoves her cup of coffee to the side, the dark liquid spilling against your shared dining room when she takes quick strides toward you.

you let out a gasp when she picks you up, crushing your body to hers, “it’s about damn time, cupcake.”

her hands were wrapped tightly around your waist as she carries you effortlessly back into her bedroom, slamming her door shut before laying you back against her bed. no words were spoken when vi surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

you moan the moment vi gently sweeps her tongue within your mouth, tasting you fully while allowing her hands to descend upon your oversized shirt. she lifts the large fabric from your body, tossing it aside as you were left with your breasts bare for her. with only a flimsy pair of panties covering your center, vi shudders while hovering over you. “you’re so damn pretty and perfect, princess. i’ve loved you ever since the day i first met you.”

your breathing hitches when you felt vi dip her hand between your legs, traveling within the waistband of your panties to trace at your slick heat. “i was so hopelessly in love with you that i tricked myself into believing that your friendship was enough- but it’s not enough anymore.”

in the midst of her confession, you feel her fingers sliding into your aching core, gasping when she pumps them in and out of you. the squelching sounds of your walls eagerly taking in her gentle ministrations echo throughout the room. “v-vi, oh my god, vi!”

“do you know what you just did, princess? now, i’ll never be able to leave you. you belong to me as much as i belong to you now… and nothing will ever change that.”

she sighs, removing her fingers from your soaked cunt, admiring the shiny quality of them before licking off the evidence of your arousal. she makes a show of cleaning her fingertips, causing you to press your legs together when you felt your walls clench painfully at the sight.

“you taste so fucking good, princess.” letting out a sigh of your name, vi spreads your legs, hands gripping at your panties before taking them off of you. once you were left bare for her, vi settles herself between your thighs with her lips engulfed over the entirety of your center.

your back arches against the bed, with you crying out to her as your hands delver themselves into her hair. she devours you like a woman starved, drinking everything you had to offer while introducing a finger within your slick heat. your back arches against the bed as you grind yourself on her face, losing all of your senses each time she gently pinches down at your swollen clit.

minutes later, you release yourself into her awaiting mouth, feeling her low moans send pleasurable vibrations across your body. “mmm, my sweet little cupcake…”

vi’s sultry voice sends shivers down your spine, with your mind going hazy. you became dimly aware of how she sheds off the rest of her clothes, not stopping until she remains just as bare as you before wrapping her legs around your own. the sensation of her swollen clit rubbing against yours makes you toss your head back in response, allowing vi to pin you against the bed as she finally acted on her desires for you.

and as you built on each other’s pleasure, you knew that your respective feelings had always been requited within this very moment.

end notes: an unedited fluff / thirst post pertaining to vi. i understand how hot she is, i truly do 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Kidnapped

Lemme just give my baby boi Bucky all the headpats in the world

Summary: You get kidnapped and Bucky has to rescue you

Your head hurts. Badly. And for once it's not because you drank too much the previous night. Lights begin to focus and the muted voices start to become clearer, unveiling the fact that you're currently tied to a chair and the deep cut on your forehead is currently dripping blood into your eyes.

"Look who's awake. About time." One of the masked people yanks your head upwards by your hair and you grunt at the sudden stab of pain.

"Missed me?" You grin, laughter punched out of your system when a fist strikes your stomach hard. Still, you manage to wheeze a laugh out, even as a fist strikes the back of your head hard, causing your vision to spin. "Missed you all too."

"Shut up and tell us where the Winter Soldier is!" The one whom you assume is their leader based on his mask's unique marking grabs your chin, lifting your head so that your gaze meets theirs.

"You want me to shut up or tell you where he is? You've gotta choose one —" You're flung to the side along with your chair, the floor slamming into your already injured side. Blood splatters onto the concrete floor from your coughing and you hear heavy footsteps stomping nearby.

Amateurs. They're terrible at extracting information and it's making you laugh at how pathetic they are. Unfortunately you can't enjoy the show as much as you'd like to because of all the pain you're in but at least there's some show to alleviate it. You focus on your breathing, centering yourself. You have to keep a clear mind, backup will be here soon so all you have to do is buy time. Even without your earpiece, you know that reinforcements will show up at some point. Hopefully before you actually die from your injuries.

You know that Bucky will come storming to your rescue. Probably.

It is rather ironic that your kidnappers only need to continue holding you hostage to find the person they're looking for instead of trying to beat his whereabouts out of you. The pain is getting rather annoying, especially considering how long your injuries will take to heal. This is going to put you out of commission for about a month, and the thought of being stuck in the house for a month is scaring you far more than your kidnappers could ever do.

The floor is rather cold, freezing to the touch really and you would like to not be in contact with the floor, but your kidnappers don't seem to share your sentiment since they keep squatting down to yell at you.

"It's better for your knees if you put my chair upright so you don't have to keep squatting down to talk to me. Also do keep your voice down, I'm not deaf you know." There are times where you curse your witty tongue, this is one of those times.

One moment you're on your side, lying on the floor. The next moment you're sent flying into a wall, the chair nothing but splinters in a pile underneath you. Fingers dig into the soft flesh of your throat, squeezing the air out of your lungs. You kick the air, struggling instinctively and dig your fingernails into the arm as hard as you can. which is not very hard considering how much air and blood you're losing. Black spots begin to crowd your vision and you're about to send an apology to your boyfriend for being the sassy idiot that you are when suddenly your body collapses to the floor, lungs heaving as they gulp down as much oxygen as they possibly can.

Coughing, you massage your throat. The bruises are going to be ugly, and Bucky is probably going to explode upon seeing your injuries. You would feel bad for your kidnappers if it wasn't for the fact that they nearly killed you and ruined your nice little record of not getting kidnapped.

"I will not ask again. Where is the Winter Soldier?" The leader roars, slamming you against the wall.

"You know, it's a bit hard to talk when it's kinda hard to breathe." You hit his arm. "Also, I believe he's right behind you."

A loud thud echoes in the now empty room as a metal fist collides with flesh and the leader crumples to the floor at the feet of a furious super soldier. You lean against the wall, panting as you push your hair out of your eyes, wincing when you accidentally touch the wound on your forehead.

"Took you…long enough." You huff, looking up at Bucky.

"Maybe I wouldn't have to do this if you didn't get captured." He scowls, kicking the leader's now unconscious body.

"Try intentionally walking into an ambush by yourself and let me know if you get out alive." You grit your teeth, using the wall to stand up despite all the ringing in your ears and the blurriness in your vision. Your head is starting to hurt worse, and all the blood you're spilling onto the floor probably isn't helping either.

"Well, you're alive right now aren't you?" Bucky scoops you up. "So don't go dying on me or I'll have to clean up your messes too."

"Don't recall having too many messes for you to clean," you tiredly mumble into his chest. Your eyelids feel heavy, black starting to cloud your vision and you want nothing more than to close your eyes and sleep forever but Bucky keeps jostling you, snapping you awake with every step he takes. "You make a terrible groom, can't even carry your bride properly."

"My bride needs to stay awake or they'll die." He frowns, purposely shaking you. "I mean it."

"Try not to sound like you actually care about me or I might start believing it."

Bucky simply grunts, definitely out of annoyance and continues the way too long walk out of the building, jostling you all the way. Your fingers clutch at his shirt tightly as you take in the sights before you, realising that Bucky had single-handedly fought his way in just to get to you.

"Can't believe you didn't invite me for this party. Seemed fun." You groan.

"Wasn't so fun knowing the only person I can tolerate on missions could die before I reached them." He murmurs, worry sparking in his ice blue eyes.

"Tolerate? Pretty sure I make for better company than that." You weakly poke him in the shoulder, giving him a glare that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

"Dream on, doll." The sound of a jet landing drowns out the rest of his words and he carries you inside, laying you out on a stretcher so that the doctor can tend to your wounds. You give him the finger as he turns to leave and he throws one back over his shoulder.

"Don't miss me too much while I'm gone, doll." With that, he disappears into the cockpit and leaves you with the doctor.

"As if I'd miss that bastard," you mutter to yourself, finally closing your eyes and drift off to sleep, ignoring the way your heart clenches at the thought of Bucky fighting his way through the base just to rescue you.

When you wake, you're back somewhere in Avengers Tower, bandages decorating your head and chest. You partially recall this place being the medbay, and judging from the look on Bruce's face your wounds aren't that bad, at least not now.

"Hey," you croak.

"Welcome back," Bruce smiles. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got slammed into a wall multiple times."

"That's not far off. You'll be back in the field in give or take one month, don't worry." He hands you a glass of water which you accept gratefully.

"Where's Bucky?" The question slips out before you can stop yourself.

"Missed me that much, doll?" Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The brunette walks in with the largest smirk you've seem him make, automatic door sliding close behind him.

"Was asking so I could avoid seeing your ugly mug so soon." You bury yourself back underneath the blanket, ensuring that the fabric covered your face.

"How unfortunate that I chose to walk in now." He takes a seat next to your bed, quietly signalling to Bruce for time alone with you. Bruce nods, slipping out of the room and Bucky lets out a sigh. "Doll?"

You make not a single peep, not even when Bucky pokes you through the blanket so he takes matters into his own hands and yanks the blanket off you. You yelp, hands scrambling to pull the blanket back but the super solider is faster and tosses the blanket onto the table behind him before folding his arms over his chest.

"What?" You scowl, mimicking his actions.

"I didn't know your idiocy had no limits." His brows furrow. "What were you thinking, springing that trap with no escape plan? Were you looking to die?"

"If I was, it was a very unsuccessful attempt." You roll your eyes, turning over so that your back faces him.

"Be honest with me." He turns you over, grip softening when he realises how much he's hurting you but he doesn't let go.

"I wasn't trying to die, okay? But if I did, well…" You look away, hating at how your chest constricts when you see the pain in his eyes. "Would've been fine."

"It wouldn't have been!" He snaps. "It's not fine if you just go off and die!"

"Right," you mutter, playing with the sheets. Tears are beginning to form in the corners of your eyes, and you refuse to let him see your weakness. Biting down hard on your bottom lip, you try to push your emotions down before they can overwhelm you but the tears keep coming anyways. Dammit.

"Doll I —" He takes a deep breath. "I don't want to see you to die, alright? Or at least I don't want to see you die before me."

You lie there in silence, tears still streaming down your face and staining the pillow beneath. Fist clenching, you stifle a sob. Shit, you really don't want to crumble in front of Bucky of all people.

"You…matter. A lot. To me." Bucky forces the words out, but his gaze is soft, and so is his touch. His fingertips gently press against your skin, little spots of warmth amidst the sudden chill that has set in. "So don't go dying on me, alright?"

"Only if you make the same promise." You mumble and his eyes brighten. Giving you a genuine smile, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Deal. Now get all the rest you need, I'll always be here."

"If you're expecting a 'thank you', I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed." You give his cheek a poke.

"You're welcome." He grins, ruffling your hair. He grabs the blanket, tucking you in with it. "Heal up, or I'll have to go on missions by myself and that would be boring."

"Well, can't have a bored super soldier now, can we?" You smile back at him, grabbing his hand. "Hold on."

He huffs in annoyance, but his eyes say otherwise. "Won't be letting go any time soon, doll."

[mariasont]

I know youre working on a fic right now but can you sometime make a fic where a new agent comes to work at the bau (the reader) and early seasons Spencer catches her interest, to which he's completely oblivious? Like just a cute little fluffy fic where two genius idiots can realise they like each other throughout their case together.

(also a lot of jokes from Morgan lol)

Reading Between the Lines - S.R

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: reader just being in love with dr. reid

wc: 1.2k

The two of you were alone in the police station break room, which had become something of unofficial workspace for the team during the case. You'd been sitting there for a while, mostly pretending to read through a file while Spencer, across the table, actually read his—flipping through pages faster than should be humanly possible.

You'd been watching him out of the corner of your eye for the last ten minutes, trying (and failing) to keep your focus on your own. You couldn't help it. He was enthralling to watch. His long fingers moved smoothly over the paper, turning each page with that ridiculous speed-reading technique of his. And when he tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning the words so quickly it looked like he was barely reading at all, you were sure you'd never seen anyone more unfairly attractive in your entire life.

And you did mean unfairly in the purest sense. It was undeniably unfair—no, unnatural—for a man to possess such a perfect plethora of qualities, like Spencer Reid did.

You hated how obvious you were being. Every time Spencer glanced up at you, your face grew hot, and you had to fight the urge to duck your head like a nervous schoolgirl. It was absurd. You were a grown adult—a professional in the FBI, for gods' sake. You had no business mooning over someone this hard. But... it was Spencer. How could anyone not?

Eventually, you gave up trying to work and leaned forward on the table, resting your chin on your hand. "How do you do that?"

Spencer glanced up, blinking. "Do what?"

"Read that fast," you said, gesturing toward the file in his hands. "I mean, it's like you're just flipping through the pages for fun, but you're actually... reading them, right? You're not just pretending?"

Spencer tilted his head, his lips twitching into a smile. "No, I'm not pretending. I'm absorbing the information. It's called speed-reading."

You raised an eyebrow. "And you just... taught yourself how to do that?"

He nodded, setting the file down in front of him. "It's not as hard as it looks. Anyone can learn it with enough practice."

"Anyone?"

"Anyone," Spencer said, leaning back into his chair. "It's all about training your brain to recognize patterns in the text and absorb information in chunks rather than word by word. It's just a matter of rewiring how you process what you're reading."

You stared at him for a moment, then a grin spread across your face. "Teach me."

Spencer blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Teach you?"

"Yeah," you said, sitting up straighter. "If anyone can learn it, prove it. Teach me how to speed-read."

For a second, he just stared at you, like he wasn't sure if you were serious. But then his expression morphed into something that looked almost... excited. "Okay. I can teach you."

You tried not to look too pleased as he reached for a book sitting on the nearby counter and slid it across the table toward you. It was some dry academic text about linguistic patterns across extinct languages—typical Spencer reading material—but you figured it didn't really matter what the book was. You weren't here for the content.

"Alright," Spencer said, pulling his chair closer to yours so he could see what you were looking at. He leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours, and every single coherent thought you had ever had evaporated into thin air. You swallowed hard, staring at the page but unable to actually read anything. "The first thing you need to do is stop subvocalizing."

"Sub... what?" you asked, already lost.

"Subvocalizing," he repeated patiently. "It's when you say the words in your head as you're reading them. Most people do it without even realizing it, but it slows you down. If you can train yourself to read without subvocalizing, you'll process the text much faster."

You nodded slowly, though you weren't sure you entirely understood. "Okay. So... how do I stop?"

Spencer smiled. "It takes practice, but one way to start is by using your finger to guide your eyes. Like this."

He reached out and gently took your hand, guiding your index finger to the first line of the text.

Your brain short-circuited for a second. His hand was warm, touch light as he moved your finger along the page. Did he notice the way you tensed up? Did he feel how clammy your palm was? If he did, he didn’t mention it, his focus entirely on the page. Meanwhile, your focus was entirely on him.

"Try to keep your eyes moving with your finger," Spencer said. "Don't focus too much on each individual word—just let your brain take in the whole line."

Every time you inhaled, you caught the faintest hint of soap and coffee—clean, warm, him—and it was becoming impossible to think straight.

"Okay," you said softly, moving your finger along the line as he'd shown you. "Like this?"

"Exactly. Now, try to pick up the pace. Keep your eyes moving."

You tried, but your focus kept slipping—not because of the text, but because of the way Spencer was leaning so close, his shoulder almost brushing yours as he watched you. You could feel his breath, soft and even, against the side of your face, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that this was probably the closest you'd ever been to him.

"Am I doing it right?"

"Mostly," Spencer said, his hair brushing his forehead as he leaned even closer to point at a section of the text. His long fingers hovered just above yours, and your heart stuttered at the proximity. "But try not to pause at punctuation. Just keep your eyes moving in one fluid motion."

"Okay," you said again, though honestly, you weren't sure how much you were actually absorbing. Your brain was too busy screaming Spencer Reid is touching me. Spencer Reid is this close to me.

For a few more minutes, Spencer guided you through the process, his hand occasionally brushing yours as he helped you adjust your pace. You couldn’t tell if you were actually improving or if you were just doing your best to survive the moment without completely embarrassing yourself.

"You're doing better already," he said. "It just takes time to get used to."

You smiled back at him, cheeks warm. "Thanks. You're a good teacher."

Spencer’s ears turned pink, and he glanced down, his fingers brushing idly at the edge of the book. "I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before. A good teacher, I mean."

You couldn't stop smiling.

"Maybe next time, you can teach me," he said suddenly.

You laughed. "I don’t think there’s anything I could teach you that you don’t already know, Spencer."

"I wouldn’t be so sure about that," Spencer said, his voice quieter now, almost teasing. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and for a second, his eyes met yours, before flicking back to the book.

Correction, you wouldn't be able to stop smiling for the next 3-5 business days.

Morgan was leaning against the hallway wall just outside the break room, holding his phone and scrolling casually, when you finally stepped out of the room.

You didn't see him at first—you were too busy floating on a cloud, practically glowing as you replayed the last few minutes with Spencer over and over in your mind. You were smiling so much your cheeks hurt, and you could still feel Spencer's hands on yours.

"Well, well, well," Morgan voice cut through your daydream, startling you so badly you almost tripped. You snapped your head toward him, your heart jumping to your throat. He was grinning like a cat who'd just caught a mouse. "What's got you all smiley? Pretty boy say something sweet, or are you just thinking about those magic hands of his?"

You felt your face burst into flames. "What? No! It's not—"

Morgan held up a hand, shaking his head as he chuckled. "Save it, girl. I know the look of a lovesick rookie when I see one. Trust me—you've got it bad."

You sputtered, desperately trying to come up with a convincing rebuttal, but Morgan was already walking away. "Better make your move before he speed-reads right past you!"

You groaned, burying your burning face in your hands as Morgan’s laughter faded down the hall. Lovesick rookie? Was it really that obvious?

Yes. Yes, it was.

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join my taglist here!

[izzyk-15]

Thank you for informing those hobbies less pick me queer

(Everything under isn’t directed to the author of the post I reblogged btw)

Not a lesbian mostly a gaygirl/turigirl but I use a lil the lesboy label since I feel queer attraction to women even if I have a stronger preference for male and masc aligned.

But I really hate the whole " Non men loving Non men" that none only exclude Multigender/genderfluid, bigender(male aligned+any other alignment), butch, gnc, trans, cusper and intersex but that also inforce the terf ideology and transandrophobia in the community.

People(specifically Gen Z and millennials;I’m genZ btw) cis queer are the biggest yapper about terms who doesn’t even concern them,they really never research on lesbians/queers history,old terms or talks to older queer.

"Non binary lesbian are valid"

"Genderfluid lesbian are valid"

"I love lesbian with weird gender"

Only to exclud and harass any lesbian who aren’t fem/female aligned

Racist/Transphobe/Homophobe won’t forget you bc you are one of the "good" queer like you say,they saw queer/trans they will go after us all.

• Harassing Mogai won’t stop homophobia/Transphobia

• Policing other’s identities is harmful and queerphobic.

• Acting like being queer was a strict jail alignments is harmful.

• Harassing people under the trans umbrella for using labels who suits their identity is harmful.

• Bullying mogai queer into using an identity they don’t feel uncomfortable using bc you don’t want to understand or is confused about their identity is harmful.

• None forgot the #lgbwithoutthet cis queer started to appear good in front of cishetallo perisex people and it’s extremely disappointing to know a lot of you are capable of throwing trans people under the bus to save your own ass.

• Wasting your time debating on others identity instead of talking about how the world litteraly slowly crambling and people are litteraly dying right,

-Queer children in India getting r@ped to "fixe" them

-The high mortality rate of trans women specifically POC trans women since debut 2020

-The facts there’s still homophobic attack this year

-The genocides happening right now

-The facts the afab people/people with uterus are literally losing their right to speak and their body autonomy

-The rate of suicide of Trans/Queer kids getting higher and higher

-and so much more

is pathetic and disgusting,you all need to be better.

Lesboy and Male Lesbian Infographic - repost from my friend thelesbianbakugou

Since his account got terminated a few years ago, me and thelesbianbakugou decided to replatform this lil info sheet! There's one on mspec lesbians too but we just have to find it

Sadly we don't have access to the original image credits, if you know who made some of the images, please let us know and we'll credit them here!

tags for reach woo! @mogai-place @mogai-sunflowers @neopronouns @genderqueerdykes @ghosttypebeat @our-lesboy-experience @transonlyspace @mogai-faggot @enbermoonlish

[polytropic-liar]

What can you do to prepare for ICE enforcement actions?

I keep seeing that list of potential ICE target cities being shared around, so I'm breaking my "no organizing on tumblr" rule to share some info.

Credentialing: I'm an immigration lawyer, I've worked in immigration justice organizing for approximately a decade, I lead regular Know Your Rights trainings in my community.

Disclaimer: This is not legal advice. This is information about the US immigration system, and it may not be completely accurate to your specific location or situation. I am not soliciting clients on Tumblr. Do not message me confidential information about your, or anyone else's, immigration situation. If you need help with an immigration situation, the Immigration Advocates Network has a national database you can search by your location.

So, what can you do to help prepare for the event of an ICE enforcement action that impacts your community, friends, or family?

I. Assess risk

One of the most detrimental effects of the panic propaganda (which these constant threats of ICE raids absolutely are) is that it makes every single immigrant terrified, regardless of risk level. That saps the organizing power of immigrant communities and their supporters (like lawyers). You can help mitigate that effect by helping the people in your life and your community actually assess what their risk factors for targeting by ICE might be. This guide from 2017 for assessing risk from Immigrant Defense Project is a little dated at this point, but the basic information should be a good starting point.

Sometimes a risk assessment can help someone actually address some risk factors, like filing a renewal application, fixing their compliance with terms of their release before their parole is revoked, getting a lawyer to re-open their order of removal, or getting a criminal conviction mitigated/overturned. Even if it can't, it can help people have a more accurate picture of what their risk is, which people deserve to understand and to plan around.

II. Develop an emergency response plan

For people who are at risk of ICE arrest, detention, and potentially deportation, planning beforehand can make a huge difference. Immigrant Defense Project's guide to emergency preparedness is a great place to start. (Note: some of their linked resources are New York-specific. You may need to find ones for your state.)

If you're wondering how you can help the people you care about who are at risk, offer to play a role in their emergency plan. A great role for people who are fluent in English and familiar with US systems and structures is helping track someone through the detention system, and maintaining communications between them and their lawyer and outside community.

III. Prepare to document

Rapid response hotlines exist in all of the major cities on that list of potential targets. If they're not holding rapid response trainings right now, be patient: they probably will soon. Rapid response is often not about preventing an ICE enforcement action, it's about documenting it. It sucks that we often can't respond by stopping them from causing harm, but documentation provides leverage and opportunities for the people detained and for the community groups to use against ICE, which can win material victories, up to and including getting them to drop a deportation case and let someone go.

Do you film the police in your community, or otherwise document their actions? Documenting ICE works very similarly, they're just there less often and harder to identify. That means that you can train to document ICE by working with your local copwatch group. Learn how to generate good records, follow the local laws, store things securely, and connect with the people who can best use the data.

IV. Re-distribute resources

You know what really helps someone not get detained by ICE? Having the resources to avoid contact with them and with the criminal justice system. The most impactful detention prevention you can do with someone is to help them get their taillight fixed, secure a lease, pay for daycare for their kids, etc. Get people the money, access, and services they need to keep themselves safe! Do it now, and regularly: don't wait for someone to have an encounter that puts them on ICE's radar.

Can't afford to re-distribute resources directly? Most major cities in the US have "accompaniment" networks, where you can sign up to drive folks to get their licenses, and go with to the doctor, and help figure out how to get kids enrolled in school. This everyday, non-glamorous work is the most effective, meaningful, and useful thing you can do to help right now.

V. Collate and vet information

This isn't just about making sure what you share is verified (though it's significantly about that! I know the lure of chisme is so strong but please resist. Now more than ever, we have to take personal responsibility for not spreading misinformation!). It's also about something you, as a person reading this on the internet who therefore knows how to use at least one website, can do to be of service to the overwhelmed, scared, pissed off, and scrambling immigration justice groups right now. Find your local one, and ask: "Hey do you need more people finding news about immigration, checking it for reliability, and delivering it to you in one coordinated, easily-accessed place so you can decide how to disseminate it?" Not everyone needs that right now. But the ones who do will cry with gratitude. This is a particularly good role for folks who may have been feeling like their mobility or physical health meant they couldn't do anything to help against ICE--your skills are needed right now too, I promise.

Last note: I'm not going to tell you to calm down. It's reasonable and rational to be scared, and upset, and angry right now. But what I will say is: when the fear and outrage fade, the work won't end. I work with people who have been responding to ICE/INS actions for 40 years. A lot of this may feel brand new and terrifying to you, but to many of us, this is a familiar and known enemy that we spend our whole lives fighting.

It being familiar doesn't make it okay, or acceptable: it should all burn. But the organizing infrastructure to respond to this is here already. We're not helpless or surprised about what's happening, because we prepare for it every day. We're ready to fold you in with open arms whenever you want.

[sevikaslapdog]

The Regular

Summary: Working at babette’s you’re used to people asking for you after being in your company. You’re used to some of your clients speaking to you in passing, telling you they’ll see you soon. But your not used to that person being Silco’s right hand (wo)man.

Warning: mentions of prostitution, drinking, smoking, mentions of stalking, mentions of r#pe (very briefly), mentions of sex but none actually occurs, let me know if i missed anything else

a/n: Very clique plot for Sevika I know I know, but its perfect.

You’ve been working for babette since you were in your early twenties, now years have passed and you’ve grown accustomed to the life of a prostitute. Babette takes good care of you, as she does for most of her workers. Its just in her nature as she knows the work isn’t easy.

Throughout you many years of working for her you’ve had your bad experiences, men being way too rough, some even stalking you, but the past week you had the worst of them all. A specific client thats visited you multiple times forced his seed inside of you, breaking one of the few rules. After you were a bit shaken up and immediately went to Babette about it.

She immediately sent someone to go get the need medicine to prevent a pregnancy, comforting you and granting you a week off per your request. You spent the first couple days laying in bed and sleeping, as you didnt get much due to your job. The rest you spent taking a much needed self reset, doing things that made you happy. Like taking a nice bath, trimming your hair and nails, painting them in your favorite color, and cleaning to soothe your anxiety if it came creeping back up. The day before you had to go back you made sure to get enough sleep knowing your body craved more rest before returning to the tasking work.

On your first day back you took your time getting yourself together, walking into Babettes office and asking who had booked you today. To your surprise she informed you that Sevika booked you for your whole shift. You could tell by her tone that she was a bit surprised too, but she didnt mention it. She mentioned that every day you were gone she barged in asking for you, and with each passing day she got more aggravated with hearing ‘Shes not here today.’

Shes payed you many visits throughout the past couple months, sometimes seeing other girls but she always came back to you. Whispering in your ear that no one could satisfy her better than you, while you whined and moaned on the strap she always wore when seeing you. You let out a hum as you strolled down the hall, knowing she was waiting for you in your room.

As you pushed open the curtain your eyes landed on her, taking up a good amount of space on the couch, her legs spread wide with her mechanical arm resting on the back of the couch as she smoked her cigar with her right. You let the curtains fall behind you as you leisurely walked towards her. Once you were close enough she moved the arm from the back of the couch and wrapped the cold metal around your nearly bare skin. Letting it slip down to your hip as she pulled you into her lap.

With a smile you got comfortable while perched in her lap, placing your hands on her shoulders and moving them to the back of her neck. Playing with the locks on the back of her head. She took one last drag of the cigar, digging it into the tray that you had in your room just for her as she blew the smoke into your face.

You breathed it in with a sigh, it was quiet for a moment before she spoke up. “You’ve kept me waiting woman.” Despite her harsh words there was no ounce of anger lacing her tone. Using her actual arm to place under your chin and held it firmly.

“Wanna let me know why that is hm?” She leaned in slightly, a sly smile pulled on your lips. “Missed me sev?” You were avoiding the question, you both knew it. She let out a huff, ducking her head to your neck and placed a soft bite to your neck, not enough to hurt but enough to make it known she wanted answers. You tilted your head back in bliss, missing the way her mouth felt pressed against your neck. As she pulled away from your neck you whined at the loss of contact.

Through the many visits you let your persona fade away, letting yourself enjoy her pleasure just as much as she enjoyed yours. Not caring to put up a front like you do with other clients. “Tell me.” Letting out a huff you look at her, glancing away briefly as you mumbled to her what happened. You knew you shouldn’t, it wasn’t a good idea but it was Sevika. Not just some random man who came stumbling in.

Immediately her attitude shifted, her touch more gentle but she would deny it if you brought it up. You spent the next hours in each other’s blissful company while she praised you, focusing more on you than pleasuring herself.

When it was time to leave she fixed up her appearance slightly in the tiny mirror you kept to fix yourself up in-between clients while you sat next to her. You stared at her tiredly, sighing as you got up from the couch. She placed the mirror down that seemed smaller in her big hands, standing up and towering over you. She took two pouches of coins from her bag and tossed them on the table, “Keep ‘em. I’ll see you later doll.” You smiled at her and waved your fingers at her as she left.

You felt more at peace as you changed into your regular clothes, placing the two pouches Sevika gave you in your bag. Waving to Babette as you left the brothel for the night, and grabbing some food from Jericho’s on your way home.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Weeks have passed since then, you’ve fallen back into your usual routine. Lately Sevika’s visits have been less sex and more talking. Mostly her complaining about all the shit she has to deal with when it comes to cleaning up after jinx messes, and Silco’s been putting more work on her than usual. Of course no matter what you two were doing you enjoyed her company, the whole time she rambled you ran your fingers through her hair, up and drown the side of her neck while holding her cigar for her until she motioned for it.

On one of those days you told her about how you used her money to fix up your place, you managed to snag of of the few two story homes in zaun. Of course it was abandoned at first but with much grueling work and help from some friends years ago you fixed it up the best you could. You slightly rambled on how you were able to buy a heater to fight against the grueling cold weather that was flowing through zaun right now. You also told her that you were able to buy some new outfits you think she’d like.

Today though was one of the few days you were off, a friend from the brothel asked to snag one of your shifts because she needed some money to buy her son new winter clothes. Of course you let her have it, obviously making sure sevika didnt book you for that day.

Deciding you wanted to get a drink today instead of staying home you pulled on some old worn down leggings and then some thick cargo jeans. Sliding on a black long sleeve that was skin tight and a thick jacket you purchased many cold winters ago which was obvious due to the jacket being worn down. Pairing the outfit with your old black boots that don’t get much wear now. But it did the job so you couldn’t care less. After sliding money in your pocket that would surely cover a few drinks you headed out to The Last Drop.

You pushed the doors open and were immediately greeted with strobe lights and loud music, and smoke flowing through the air. Pushing your way through the crowd to get to the bar, you slid into a bar stool and ordered a shot of whiskey. It was a bit expensive but you liked to take pleasure in spoiling yourself sometimes.

So as you downed the shot, and the next few you didn’t think about how much it costed. Instead you cherished the way the warm liquid ran down your throat. You didn’t take enough to get drunk, but enough to feel a slight buzz. You decided to just sit at the bar for a while until you heard an all too familiar whistle.

It was the whistle she used every-time you stripped off your new set, or when you moved in a way she particularly liked. You head slowly turned to the sound, locking eyes with her. She was sitting in a booth near the stairs that led up to what you would assume is Silco’s office. She was sitting across from a work colleague she mentioned once, Ran if you remembered correctly.

You tried to fight the small smile that played on your lips as she beckoned you over, you slid off the barstool and walked over to her booth. Sliding in to sit next to her. Her arm immediately moved to rest behind you, “What’re you doing here doll?” You glanced to her friend who was simply looking at you. Not with a glare or anything but was trying to figure out who you were. Looking back over at her. “Had the day off, wanted a drink.” You shifted your leg so it was draping over hers, something you’ve grown accustomed to.

She hummed, eyes glancing down at your leg which seemed so much smaller compared to hers. Something she enjoyed when the time came. “If I knew any better i’d say you were looking for me.” She let a teasing smirk pull on her face. You saw her friend slide out the booth through the corner of your eye but didn’t pay it any mind. “Would it be so bad if I was?” Raising your brows at her in a playful manner.

Her hand lifted from behind the couch, wrapping around and her fingers grazed your cheek. Her gentleness taking you aback for a moment, “No, it wouldn’t.” she stared down at you for a moment before rest her hand on your thigh and turned to take a sip from her drink.

The rest of the night you spent with each other, sitting in the booth and talking. Getting to know one another beyond sex, and the rambling that occurred in the brothel. When the night came to a close she walked you back to your house, and with much convincing she stayed the night.

m.list

[nanenna]

Warning: Implied bodily mutilation.

Okay, so remember how this prompt started and why Danny's dissociating hard enough he's in the next universe over? Kon gets a sudden, visceral reminder. UwU (Nothing graphic, all implied. This time)

-----

It was nice having all of Just Us together again, even if it was only for a pre-mission information gathering meeting. After contacting Wonder Woman about it this was now official League business, specifically JLD business. So here he, Tim, Cassie, and Bart were, sitting in one of the meeting rooms on the Watchtower across the table from Wonder Woman and John Constantine. Tim had a presentation all ready to go, including Danny’s drawings and one blurry photo he somehow managed to get of the boy, as he explained everything they knew so far.

“It does seem this boy is from an alternate universe,” Diana agreed as she looked at the star chart Danny had drawn compared to their own. It seemed about half the stars Danny had drawn were a match.

“And even if not, I can’t help search for him with this,” Tim said.

Diana looked over to Constantine.

“I would need to get a read on him, preferably after I get some supplies and get everything set up.”

Kon sighed, “I’ll talk to Ma and Pa. Promise you won’t do any damage to the house.”

Constantine held his hands up, “I’ll clean up after myself.”

“I’ll put together a rescue team,” Diana said.

Kon and his friends all frowned, “We’re already a team.”

“Kon will need to go since Danny already knows him,” Cassie pointed out. “And since we’re already a team we work best with each other.”

Diana nodded, “Alright, I and John will come with you as back up and to make sure we can make it home. We’ll make arrangements to get his supplies, in the mean time I think it’s best you start introducing Danny to others. Ma and Pa at the least.”

Kon nodded, “Sure, I can do that.” He stood up, since it sounded like the meeting was over.

“Before you lot go running off,” Constantine interrupted, “just wanna say not everything from Earth is human.”

Kon sat back down.

“You mean like us?” Cassie asked with a confused frown.

“Yes and no. There’s Amazons and Atlanteans, sure. But there’s also the Tuatha Dé Danann, Hulder, Vila, Kami, whatever you wanna call them.”

Kon had no idea what Constantine was talking about, he looked over to Tim. “The fair folk, or fairies. Like Morgaine le Fey.”

Kon nodded, he had some idea what Constantine meant now.

“Dream walking isn’t something many humans can do.”

Kon remembered something he hadn’t paid much attention to earlier. “Danny called me Nocturn, the Ancient of dreams. He thinks this is all a dream, I don’t think he even knows he’s astral projecting.”

“Right, so he could be fae and knows it, he could be fae and not know it, or he could be a human who managed to make friends with something that sounds like a fae lord. And depending on what it is it changes the rules of hospitality, so be careful about that.”

Tim sighed, “I’ll give them all the fae crash course.”

“The Bat is surprisingly correct and thorough on that.” Constantine sighed, then looked towards Kon. “Look, mate, I know you won’t like this but it might be best to let him think he’s still dreaming for now, just until we get him out of whatever situation is so bad it has him dissociating into the next universe.”

He was right, Kon didn’t like it.

✧✦✧

It had only been a day, Kon wasn’t expecting to see Danny again so soon. At first there had been a whole week between the first and second sighting, but they had been getting closer and closer together over the last couple weeks. Kon wasn’t sure if that meant he just didn’t always run into Danny or if he was actually astral projecting more often. But he hadn’t seen Danny two days in a row yet.

Except now he had.

Kon had finished explaining the whole situation to Ma and Pa, had helped them pick out which room in the big old farmhouse they would let Constantine borrow, and promised to introduce them to Danny the next he saw him. He’d previously told them about him so they could keep an eye out for him, but it seemed they hadn’t seen him yet. Kon was just heading out to the barn for evening chores when he saw a misty figure out in one of the fields. Kon had almost missed them, due to how misty the fields were with rain coming down, but he stopped and squinted and yeah, that was Danny.

“Hello,” Kon greeted as he approached.

Danny didn’t look over, keeping his face turned up and eyes closed. “I can almost feel it.” The rain was going right through him, leaving misty trails in his translucent body.

“At least you don’t have to worry about getting wet.”

“I miss it.”

That’s it, just miss it, not even a comment about how he wants to go stand in the rain when he’s awake.

“Would you like to come inside? Meet my Ma and Pa? I’ve told them about you.”

Danny did blink, looking over at Kon owlishly with his haunting green eyes. “I suppose I have been too lonely.” Danny lifted off the ground and drifted towards Kon, who also lifted into the air and started leading Danny towards the farmhouse.

“I’m not Nocturn.”

Danny looked over with one of his indulgent smiles.

“I mean it,” Kon said quickly. “I don’t want you to think I lied and said I was him when I’m not.” He may need to let Danny think he’s still dreaming, which technically he’s not wrong about, but Kon wasn’t going to try to pretend to be someone he’s never even heard of.

“If you say so.”

Kon sighed, he’d tried. They arrived at the house then, Kon carefully wiped off his shoes before going in. Danny didn’t have a lower half to bother with. “Ma, Pa, I have a guest.”

“Oh, is it one of your friends or did Diana and John finish their shopping trip already?” Ma asked as she walked into the room. When she spotted Danny she stopped and looked at him for a moment before smiling brightly. “You must be Danny, Conner’s been telling us about you.”

Danny looked up at Kon, “Conner?”

Kon shrugged, “Earth name.”

Danny just nodded, then turned back to Ma. “I am Danny, it’s nice to meet you.” He held a hand out, the arm attaching it to his body barely there.

Pa came in just as Danny introduced himself, then he gave the boy a hearty handshake.

“Well, can you eat?” Ma asked.

Danny shrugged and looked to Kon, who also shrugged. Danny turned back to Ma, “I can smell.”

Her mouth rolled into a thin line, “Well how about I make you a cup of hot cider and we can see how that goes.”

“Sure.” Danny followed Ma into the kitchen. He managed to pull out the chair himself to sit in it, legs still missing and hands barely a suggestion as they were folded in front of him on the table.

Ma set about pouring some of the cider they had into a pot to heat up. While that was going, she bustled around the kitchen gathering enough mugs for everyone.

Pa sat across from Danny at the table while Kon stood to the side, just watching her until she poured the steaming cider into the mugs. Kon picked up two of them and handed one off to Danny, while Ma gave Pa his.

“Thank you,” Danny said to both Kon and Ma when the mug was placed in front of him.

Interesting, according to Tim fairies were allergic to saying thank you. So either Danny was raised human and didn’t know he was a fairy, or he was a human and this was all Nocturn.

Danny closed his eyes and seemed to savor the long sniff he took of the mug he’d pulled closer to himself. “It smells so good.”

“Thank you,” Ma said proudly, taking a sip for herself.

Danny leaned forward and carefully picked up the mug, tipping it to take a sip. Cider splattered on the table. Danny frowned down at it.

Kon quickly picked up one of the kitchen towels and wiped the spill up. “That’s a bummer.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I can make myself solid enough. It’s so weird, normally I have to try to not be solid.”

“Well I’m sorry you can’t eat,” Ma said with a sigh.

“It still smells really good.” Danny settled the mug in his hands to be cradled just under his nose.

No one seemed sure what to say to that. It was Pa that tried to change the subject. “Why don’t you tell us about yourself, Danny?”

“I’d rather not.”

Kon couldn’t help wincing, even said in Danny’s soft, dreamy voice that was a bit harsh.

Pa recovered, “Alright then, how about we tell you about the farm? It’s been a real nice year so far. The animals and crops are doing well.”

“It’s been easier since Conner’s been actually staying instead of just visiting,” Ma added.

“What?” Kon asked.

Ma tittered, “Since Danny showed up you’ve been staying the whole time instead of just visiting.”

“I visit every day!”

“You do,” Ma agreed with a wide smile. “Don’t change that it’s been lonely since Clark and Lois moved back to Metropolis, took little Jon with them.”

“They visit a lot too!”

“That they do,” Pa agreed. He gave Danny an exaggerated wink, “We’re real lucky our boys can make the time to come visit us so often.”

Danny smiled gently at Pa, “It does sound-”

Danny’s mug clattered to the table, spilling cider across it and splashing some on the floor. Kon moved to start cleaning it up when he realized why Danny’s mug had fallen.

Danny’s right arm was missing.

Danny looked down at it with his usual passive expression, “Oh, so that’s what that feeling was.”

“What?” Kon asked blankly.

“They’re gonna run outta limbs eventually.”

Kon looked over to Ma, who had her hands pressed over her mouth, and Pa, who was frozen half standing. Then he looked back to Danny, who was still frowning at his shoulder. “W-what?”

Danny looked passively up at Kon. “You already know what’s going on, it’s why you made this waking dream for me after all.”

Kon stared at the arm that wasn’t there, not even a misty hint.

Danny sighed and closed his eyes, a nearly invisible arm and hand reappeared and quickly became as solid (half at best) as the other hand. He picked up his fallen mug.

Kon thought about how Danny’s arms only seemed to be there half the time. He thought about how Danny’s legs almost never seemed to be there. Kon thought about how he wasn’t entirely sure what Danny’s face looked like besides his brightly glowing eyes.

Ma was already sopping up the cider with a kitchen towel, Pa was at the linen closet grabbing bigger towel. Kon was outside, crouched over in a squat with his fingers laced and pressing against the back of his neck. He heard Ma distantly shout for Clark, but he was too busy trying to get his breathing back under control to notice.

DP x DC Prompt/Plotbunny #6

After days? weeks? months? years? in this mercy-forsaken lab, Danny finds himself slipping; his core straining under the weight of what he's been subjected to. In a last ditch effort to save his fracturing soul, his brain simply stops processing the pain and allows his mind to escape into a waking dream.

Danny knows it's a dream. If he thinks about it; he can still hear, see, feel the scientists at work. He doesn't think about it; instead embraces whatever false world his mind decides to concoct for him.

.

Several states away, a young boy opens his eyes to the inside of a strange pod in an abandoned lab. Though he cannot see it yet, a strange metal tag dangles from his ear, stamped on one side with the word 'CADMUS' and on the other with 'R-13'.

[nekrosmos]

John and Nikolai finally have time to spend an evening together, but John came back exhausted from an op and is now fighting to stay awake for Nikolai's sake, while Nik really only wants him to rest.

(Just a little bit nsfw at the beginning)

...

"Are you sure you are up for this, John?"

Nikolai wasn't a fool, he could see the exhaustion on John's face, the way his eyelids felt heavier than the dumbbells he was used to pulling almost every day, the heavy bags under his tired eyes. It was a good sight, a more vulnerable side of John he wasn’t used to showing to the world. To allow himself to drop his guard enough to fall asleep by someone’s side, well, Nik certainly felt like the luckiest man in the world. 

“I am… want to make you feel good….”

Those last words were barely coherent, John’s speech getting worse and worse with each passing minute he was fighting to stay awake. It was adorable. 

“Right. So if I asked for your lips around my cock, you would do it?”

Nik was teasing him, a wide smile on his face as he observed John’s reaction, or lack thereof, as the captain stared vacantly at him, his eyes barely open. For a second, Nik assumed that John had finally fallen asleep, until his hand moved, brushing his tired face with the back of it. 

“Just fuck me, Nik, c’mon.”

A gentle and quiet laugh was Nik’s response. If there was one thing John Price was, it was stubborn. Unless he physically restrained him and tightly tucked him under a blanket, this wasn’t a fight he had a chance to win. There were, however, many ways to win a fight. 

“Da, let me get to it then.” 

It was getting difficult for Nikolai to stop himself from laughing. John was laying on their bed, absorbed by the pillows and the blankets, like he was floating above a cloud. Nik stood on his knees between John’s legs, hands gently brushing the inside of his thigh. 

Spending time together was always a difficult task when both John and Nikolai spent their days on different sides of the world, dodging bullets and risking their lives. It was rare for them to be on the same continent, let alone the same room, despite how much they wanted it. 

When the two finally had some free time to spend together, Nikolai always wanted to do something special for John: taking him on dates, making him try food he knew he would love, fly him to a secluded place and make love to him under the stars. He wanted to make up for lost time, of course, and John knew that, a slight leftover of guilt left in the captain’s heart over the years he had wasted being too scared of this relationship. 

But, sometimes, all they got was a single night together, shared after John came back from an op. Often times, he was exhausted, bruised, and needed rest more than he needed any more adventures. This was such a case, as Gaz had informed Nikolai earlier that no one in the team had been able to get any shut eyes in the past forty hours. John was exhausted, but he was as stubborn as they came and had assured Nik that he was up for this. Right. 

A soft smile still on his lips, Nikolai bent down, kissing the naked skin of his lover’s hips, while his hands kept wandering around the lower parts of his body, his thighs so perfect under his fingers. A low groan escaped John’s throat, a quick glance confirming that his eyes were now fully closed. Not yet asleep, however, and so Nik continued, leaving kisses on his belly and ribs, hands still massaging him as best he could, soft sounds coming from John until eventually, his breathing changed, slowing down, limbs going limp. 

Nikolai smiled softly as he pulled himself up, resting next to John as he dragged a blanket on top of their naked bodies. He allowed himself, for a moment, to just observe the now asleep man next to him.

There was a sternness to John that immediately disappeared when he was sleeping, his brow relaxing, his jaw less tense, at peace, finally. Nikolai knew that his dreams wouldn’t be comforting, they never had been and probably never would be, but he was here, for him, ready to pull him closer when needed, ready to kiss the nape of his neck as his arms wrapped themselves around his shape. 

Perhaps Nik was a selfish man. He had pondered this thought many, many times in the past. To want something as much as he wanted John, to crave him like he was the only thing that mattered, it had been maddening, and still he waited. Now that John finally was his, there was nothing in this world that could pull him away from him. He had waited for so many years, that spending some time watching the other half of his heart slowly drift to sleep as they laid in bed together felt like a well-earned reward. And if that made him a selfish man, well then to hell with it. 

“Good night, John.” 

His voice was barely a whisper as his fingers brushed his lover’s hair, gently kissing his cheek. There were no reactions from John, and Nikolai allowed himself to close his eyes as well, a hand resting against John’s chest, right above his heart. There, in the quiet intimacy of the night, he could almost feel it beat under his palm, the perfect lullaby to lure him to sleep.

[unriding]

TRYING TO TAKE YOU HOME WHEN YOU DON’T RECOGNIZE THEM. ft. dan heng, jing yuan, mydei, phainon, and sunday.

sfw. f!reader. in which the hsr men try their best to convince you that they really are your boyfriend and not a complete stranger trying to take you back home after a long night out.

cw for implied alcohol consumption. not mentioned otherwise — just the silly scenario where reader seemingly doesn’t recognize them upon first glance. prompt from anon on prev blog! fem!reader for all.

— DAN HENG.

He wonders if this was truly the best course of action.

“Give me back my jacket, you jerk...” your words come out slurred, barely mustering the strength needed to keep your hold on his sleeve as you trail behind him down the street.

His jacket — he'd usually correct you — but he doesn't this time, lest you eventually come to the conclusion that the mentioned jacket isn't even yours and therefore holds no importance.

“Soon. The agreement we settled on was that if you don't make a scene, I'll give it back.”

It sounds like a threat.

And if someone were to spot him now, this would certainly paint his image in a light that he would much rather not be perceived in, if given the choice.

He knows this all too well — apparent from the nervous sweat collecting along his temples and the frequent clearing of his throat whenever your grip begins to loosen, but you seem to only giggle at the statement now, eagerly nodding along.

“Really? You pinkie promise, stranger? I'll be reaaall quiet then.”

“Yes,” his brows furrow — from either stress or a sense of urgency that you don't seem to have, “I give you my word. So, please, keep your voice down and follow me.”

You respond with a cheerful hum before eventually falling silent again, the street quiet aside from the patter of your clumsy footsteps following closely behind his own.

Though it’s short-lived, much to Dan Heng’s misery.

Only about a minute or two goes by until you start to tug on his sleeve, and his heart nearly stops beating in his chest. Perhaps you’ve already realized. Or perhaps you’ve pegged him as a dangerous type of guy — which wouldn’t surprise him, given the circumstances.

“Hey…” you tug once more, even harder now, and then stop walking entirely — shifting your weight backwards to avoid being pulled straight into him.

Uh oh.

“Hey.... stranger?” You're mumbling now, eyes locked on the floor, and his breath is stuck in his throat.

“I'm sleepy.”

“You.. you want to sleep,” He repeats, still uncertain — his words coming off a bit too similar to that of a question. “Right now?”

You nod, hands coming to rub at your eyes, as if doing so could wipe away the sudden wave of drowsiness that has overtaken you. Though, your efforts prove to be futile in the end, with each blink becoming slower than the last.

“Yes,” you murmur, “Here. I'm going to nap … and then .. and then I need to find my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. A part of him is relieved you remember, at least. Perhaps the other critical piece of information will find its way back to you soon as well.

Your eyes flutter back open when something familiar is draped across your shoulders. “Don't sleep here.”

“Here,” he turns around, lowering himself onto a knee to gesture for you to climb on. “I'll take you to your boyfriend.”

— JING YUAN.

“My boyfriend taught me how to fight, so don’t you even dare.”

He blinks, once, twice — the hand gently patting your head a moment ago now entirely frozen in place. “Oh?”

It makes sense as soon as you turn to glare at him. While he’s rather certain he hasn’t done anything to warrant such a look, another part of him — his heart, skips a happy beat over how adorable you look, even if you’re not smiling at him like usual.

“I see,” Jing Yuan continues again, only a moment later, taking a seat beside you (and choosing to ignore the way you make the conscious effort to scoot an inch away from him). Sassily so, he might add, similar to the way you so endearingly turn your body away from him and puff your cheek out when he’s teased you just a bit too much for your liking.

His hand finds its way back to you again, slower this time — traces over your cheek until he gently cups it in an effort to feel the warmth radiating from your skin. A chuckle almost betrays him and slips out at the sight of your eyes nearly fluttering shut, subconsciously leaning into his touch until you abruptly come back to your senses and swat at his hand.

He smiles at you. “Hm. Your boyfriend — is that right?”

Your eyes narrow at the amusement in his voice, likely wondering why a stranger would be speaking to you so familiarly. “My boyfriend. The one with a suuuper heavy weapon that …. that you probably couldn’t pick up … with help.”

“Ah, how admirable he must be. You have no need for worry — I would never dream of wielding such a weapon.”

You huff before deciding to face the opposite direction, all whilst scooting a secondary inch away from him. Perhaps a third, for extra measure.

“This boyfriend of yours,” he speaks again, holding back a chuckle when you dramatically sigh at the sound of his voice once again, “surely he wouldn’t mind someone like myself keeping you company until he returns, wouldn’t you think?”

“I have grown quite curious. Perhaps he would allow me to see this impressive weapon for myself.”

— MYDEI.

“Actually, you’re rather comfy, stranger.”

Mydei only huffs in response before glancing over his shoulder from where you’re draped over his left like a sack of potatoes, quickly confirming that … as of now, you still seem content, at least.

“I’ve told you before. I’m no stranger.” The singular arm currently holding your thighs to his chest tightens, and you only giggle against his back, arms freely dangling beneath you. “Yeah, yeah.”

You’ve been surprisingly cooperative. In fact, he thinks he should make a mental note to remind you about being less trusting of strangers tomorrow — because .. surely, it should not have been so easy to convince you that he could simply carry you to your ‘boyfriend.’

Even now, when he’s seemingly been reduced to nothing aside from a mere stranger, you’re as inviting and friendly to him as ever — mumbling something about his strength, followed by a worried “Hey but — let me know if you get tired or anything, okay?”

So, he lets you talk, opting for silently listening to you ramble on about your day (aside from the occasional glances over his shoulder to check on you). It’s only when he hears a sudden shift in your voice that he stiffens.

“Say…” you start, drawing patterns along his back with a finger, as if nervous about his response. “Do you think Mydei’s worried?”

“I don’t want to worry him,” he lets you continue, eyes shifting back to the path ahead of him. “What do you think, strong stranger? He won’t be mad, right? Or sad, maybe?”

He huffs. “No. He wouldn’t be mad. Not at you.”

— PHAINON.

“Oh.” You hug your knees in disappointment to let out another heavy sigh, one far too telling of your emotions — practically seeping back into your lonely puddle when you realize that this person who had found you in your corner was also in fact… not your boyfriend.

“‘Oh?’ Well, someone doesn’t sound very excited to see me.”

The stranger decides to approach you anyway, taking a seat on the tiles beside you before letting out an exhale himself, back of his head coming to lightly rest against the wall. “What’s on your mind?”

“Hmph,” you leer at him from where your head is halfway buried in your arms, knees hugged tightly against your chest. “I wanted to see my boyfriend, not some random person. I’m tired, y’know.”

“Your boyfriend? How strange.” The confusion starts to leave his face the longer he looks at you — lips curling ever so slightly at the idea that suddenly comes to mind.

“He must be cruel … to leave you here all by yourself.”

He almost slips and calls you cute when you stick an arm out to weakly jab a finger into his shoulder, turning your head to the side again to mutter a “Hey. He’s not cruel.”

Truly too cute — the way your eyes have narrowed into something resembling a glare — the same one you always give him whenever you scold him for being too careless. Though, it tends to fade as soon as it comes, replaced with soft kisses against the crown of his head as you lull him back to sleep.

“Aw,” He’s smiling now, “You’re certain he’s not cruel?”

“Obviously I’m certain,” You huff, ignoring the way he seems to look happier at this and hugging your knees even tighter against your chest. “I like being around him. A whole lot, actually.”

The way his eyes begin to soften at your (unintentional) affection most definitely wouldn’t go unnoticed by you, he’s sure, nor the way his hand twitches — wanting nothing but to extend in your direction to pull you in for a hug. Though, luckily enough for him, you’ve settled on resting your head in the comfort of your own arms again, oblivious to the lovesick one seated beside you.

“I’ll make sure to tell him again … when I see him. So let me be, you weird stranger.”

— SUNDAY.

If someone happened to be wondering whether a halovian’s wings flap awkwardly when rendered completely speechless — this would be their golden opportunity to witness it firsthand.

“M-my apologies,” his wings flutter again, then a third time when your hand only tightens around his wrist, eyes narrowing at him in suspicion. “Please excuse me. I was only checking for your temperature, since you seem to be rather…”

“No.” You don’t let go. In fact, you hold onto him as if you’ve just now captured a crook attempting to steal March’s snacks.

“..Forgive me,” his eyes flicker from your hand to your eyes — then back to your hand. As if there may be a slim chance that you’ve simply forgotten about the ironclad grip on his wrist and would release him from his confinement, soon. Surely. “Then perhaps I should go get you a glass of wa—”

“No.”

“…”

“I… I see.” The nervous flutter of his wings shifts to something more sheepish — one wing moving to cover his mouth, as if deep in thought. Which wouldn’t be far from the truth, for even someone such as himself is left dumbfounded by your current behavior. “Then.. is there anything you’d like for me to help with? Someone like March may be better suited for..”

“My boyfriend…” he falls silent as soon as you speak, noting the softness of your words now — barely above a hushed whisper (though the familiarity has him quickly perking up in response). “I want my boyfriend.”

His head tilts at this. Subtly. Truly confused — and even more so when your brows furrow only a second later, followed by a tug on his wrist. “I want my boyfriend.”

“You’re stuck with me until we find my boyfriend.”

[sanni276]

Joker Jr. AU but a bit different

I have recently seen and read several Tim Drake AU's where he is Joker Jr. They were all really interesting but I noticed how Tim was (obviously since that's like the main trait of the Joker) always insane in these fics, which has given me the following idea: Tim is Joker Jr. but he is not insane and actually purposefully became him to at as a spy.

Hear me out: Little 11/12-year old Timothy was out at night doing some nighttime photography (*cough* batstalking *cough*) when he witnessed the Joker doing something so brutally sick and wrong (Barbara being shot maybe?) that Tim decided that Joker needed to be stopped and it had to happen soon. Somewhere in that thought process it somehow got into his head that he had to do something.

I am sadly not actually smart enough to explain to you how he did it, but Tim tricks the Joker into making him his "son" and into thinking that he is insane. However instead of bringing chaos and harm upon the people of Gotham, Tim is using JJ as a cover to infiltrate the world of Gotham's rogues and send warnings to the police and citizens before attacks so they can be stopped or at least as many people saved as possible.

Another use of Tim pretending to be JJ is, that he can slowly convince Harley to leave the Joker over time and even better: Joker might take him to Ethiopia where Tim saves Jason. Through Jason's vague memories of being rescued in the last second by a child that was with the Joker? the Bat's finally become aware of the fact that Joker has a child (i imagine that they only heard rumours about it before and they kind of brushed it off since the story didn't really add up or some other excuse like that). They are obviously very concerned but when they finally find Tim and expect to meet a traumaticzed child that has become close to insanity, this happens instead:

*Batman and co. dramatically landing on the roof JJ is standing on*

*Tim turning around and starting to wave exitedly when he sees them*: Hi :)! Omg I can't believe I'm meeting you guys, i am a big fan do you need something from me? Information maybe? That would be no problem although you might have to wait a bit if you need like specific info on a rogue because i would have to investigate first and-

Nightwing: Wtf B?! You told me to come from Blud tonight since I am the best of us with children but I wouldn't touch whatever this is with a ten-foot-pole.

Batman (ignoring his son): Hello Timothy (yeah they figured out his identity), we are here to rescue you from the Joker and bring you home to your family.

Tim: Rescue me? Why would you have to rescue me? *whispering to himself* and my parents have found out i'm not at drake manor? I am going to have to check they're travel plans again.

*Bat's sharing a concerned glance*

Jason: I know this is hard to understand for you and you must be so scared, but Joker is very dangerous. We can help you. You are safe now and you don't need to defend him.

*Tim looking at them with a confused Pikachu face*: Ewwww, I would rather drop my camera off a roof than defend the Joker. I think we are having a little misunderstanding right now.

Tim, completly convinced from his Hero's greatness, just assumed that the Bat's knew about his existence, who he was and that he was only pretending to be a rogue. Why wouldn't they? There the best detectives in the world after all!

He then procedes to explain to them how he is literally the perfect spy, since his parents wouldn't even really miss him if he died and he already made contingencies that would assure all the data and evidence he has on people would be automatically deleted.

The Bat's leave that rooftop not only without Tim, but also somehow even more concerned than before.

In conclusion: Give me an AU that is just Tim my sweet-summer child doing the most reckless shit that is somehow atually very helpful for everyone while the Batfam is just desperatly trying and failing to convince Tim that he has no obligation for what he is doing and that his sacrifice would not be worth it (during the many encounters they have, Tim slowly turns out to be the perfect adoption bait and I think we all already know how this is going to end.)

This is literally my first ever tumblr post or post about the batfam so I hope I did this the right way and this was somewhat possible to enjoy. Please tell me if i made any mistakes since english isn't my first language and feel free to write fic's using my idea!